


A Stranger Heart

by andiheardeverything



Category: Glee
Genre: Blaine Big Bang, M/M, fic: a stranger heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andiheardeverything/pseuds/andiheardeverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living on the streets of New York isn't easy for anyone, but for Blaine, it's all he has, and all he thinks he deserves. Until Kurt comes into his life and sees passed the tattered gloves and worn guitar, and offers him something that Blaine's never had: a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the Blaine Big Bang challenge. Huge, huge, huge thanks to my beta, shandyall. I literally could not have done this without her. She was the best cheerleader and kept me going when I wanted to give up. She's entirely the reason I'm posting this right now. Also a huge thanks to my artist, killerquinn for her amazing work and for everyone on tumblr who cheered for me and kept me going. You guys rock.

He shows up during Kurt’s senior year. The boy on the corner. He’s there every day, just outside Kurt’s favorite coffee shop, strumming on his worn guitar, the case open at his feet. Kurt doesn’t really notice him, at first. It’s New York after all, people playing for money on street corners isn’t an unusual sight.

But there’s something about this boy, the way his dark curls tangle in the wind, the way he always sings with a smile, the tiny engraving of a bird on his guitar. Despite his ratty jacket and the holes in his shoes. Kurt watches him sometimes, from the warmth of the coffee shop, can just make out the sound of his music through the bustle of people.

“He’s cute,” Rachel says one day, when she catches Kurt gazing. Kurt blinks, glares back at her.

“What?”

She tilts her head towards the window.

“The boy. He’s cute.”

Kurt’s eyes flicker back outside, sees the boy nod graciously at a couple who drop a dollar in his case.

“He’s _homeless_.”

Rachel shrugs.

“So? He’s good.”

Kurt can’t argue with that.

When they leave, he drops a five dollar bill in his guitar case, hurrying away before the boy can see him blushing.

-

November picks up with the cold of fall and Kurt is swamped with projects and papers and tests. It’s a week before he returns to the coffee shop, ready to load up with caffeine and settle down for a long night of studying.

The boy is still there, singing softly on the corner. He smiles when Kurt walks by, tips his head ever so slightly. A curl brushes loose over his forehead, his eyes warm and brown and Kurt feels a flush creeping into his cheeks as he smiles back.

Sometimes, when Kurt looks up, he sees the boy looking at him through the window.

-

It snows but the boy is still there. The thick white flakes twirl down, catch on his eyelashes and sometimes, in between songs, he catches them on his tongue. Kurt barely hears what Rachel’s going on about, just keeps gazing out the window.

There’s something mystical about it, the way the light from the sun catches the snow, the boy, with his worn hat and frayed fingerless gloves, stationary among the people rushing by. The way he keeps playing, keeps singing, smiling at every person who drops him some coins.

“You should buy him a coffee,” Rachel suggests, when they’re getting ready to leave. The wind is picking up, the boy pausing more frequently to rub his hands together for warmth, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

“Wouldn’t that be…weird?”

Rachel shrugs.

“I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Kurt considers saying no, brushing it off as one of Rachel’s crazy ideas, but he sees the boy shiver and he changes his mind.

The boy looks shocked, eyes impossibly wide when Kurt offers him the coffee.

“It’s a mocha. I didn’t know what you’d like,” Kurt mutters, suddenly feeling ridiculous. Hazel eyes search his face, lips parting as he searches for words.

“Thank you. Really… you didn’t have to.”

Kurt shrugs, looking at his feet.

“It’s cold out,” he mumbles and his cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“You’re very talented,” Rachel offers, squeezing Kurt’s arm reassuringly. The boy nods at her.

“Thank you.” He looks up at Kurt. “Thank you.”

Kurt clears his throat, looks at Rachel.

“We should…”

Rachel nods and pulls Kurt away, with a wave back at the boy.

-

Two days later, the boy isn’t there.

Kurt feels a surprising tug of disappointment, tries not to think about how empty the corner looks without him. He supposes it was only a matter of time. The cold is biting and Kurt knows there are other places, better places, warmer places, where he could have gone.

Today, his coffee tastes bland and he can’t help but stare out the window and worry.

-

Kurt goes for coffee every day after that, hoping. Everyday he’s met with the same emptiness, the day somehow more bleak without the boy’s music, his blushing smile. Kurt knows it’s ridiculous, but he wishes the boy had told him. Had given some sort of sign at least, that he was leaving.

Except, on the fifth day, he’s back.

He’s back, but his hair lies limp on his head, dark circles ring his eyes, his face lined with exhaustion. He doesn’t sing, just strums his guitar, shoulders hunched, pausing to cough into his sleeve. Kurt feels his heart catch as he watches, aches to do something.

But he doesn’t know what.

He keeps his head down when he leaves, hopes the boy doesn’t notice him, a rotten feeling growing in his stomach.

-

Kurt doesn’t go back.

It hurts too much, caring.

-

He’s late for a group meeting, has ten minutes to make the twenty minute walk. He cuts through the park, pulls out his phone to start typing out apologies when he slows… stops. There’s a shape huddled on the bench, which in itself isn’t unusual, people sleep on the benches all the time. But he sees the curly hair, the worn jacket, the guitar propped against his feet, and something tugs him forward.

He can’t really explain why. He’s certainly not the type of person who talks to people sleeping on park benches but he needs to see, _needs_ to know.

“Um… excuse me?” Kurt says, voice soft with nerves, unsure. The shape shifts, a face peeking out from under the jacket and Kurt’s heart jumps into his throat. It _is_ the boy from the corner.

“Hi,” Kurt offers lamely, realizes he doesn’t really know what to say. The boy blinks, face scrunching in confusion.

“Hi?” He counters, sitting up and sliding back into his jacket with a shiver. His face is pale under dark scruff, bags framing red eyes, and he looks like he hasn’t showered in far too hlong. 

“I’m… um…” Kurt starts, falters.

“I remember you,” the boy says with a small smile, and Kurt blushes. It seems to be all he does around him, lately. He shuffles, trying to figure out what to say next, and the boy raises an eyebrow.

“Did you need help with something?”

“Can I buy you lunch?” Kurt blurts out all at once, feeling as surprised as the boy looks.

“You want to buy-”

“Please?” Kurt cuts him off, hands wringing together nervously. “If… if you want, I mean. I would like to.”

The boy looks tempted to refuse, his brow creasing with hesitancy, and Kurt can’t blame him, he must look insane right now, but after a moment he nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Kurt repeats with a smile, ignores the buzz of his phone that must be his group members. “Um… I’m Kurt, by the way.”

The boy stands, reaches out a hand. His fingers are freezing, his gloves scratchy.

“I’m Blaine.”

Kurt opens his mouth to say something, doesn’t know what to say, so he closes it, waits for Blaine to button up his jacket and grab his guitar. They walk silently, Blaine trailing behind Kurt, looking slightly uncomfortable as Kurt leads them to the small café on the edge of the park.

“Is this okay?” Kurt asks, feeling out of his element. What is he even _doing_? He’s taking a complete stranger to lunch, a stranger who sleeps on park benches and smells like he hasn’t seen a shower in a least a week. This is not something that Kurt Hummel does.

Blaine shrugs, looking obviously as confused as Kurt feels. So Kurt holds the door open for him, can’t help the pang of guilt when Blaine relaxes in the warmth, suddenly realizing how cold it actually is outside. It’s busy inside, full of people taking their lunch breaks, mothers with small children wiggling in their seats, all looking up as the bell chimes when they walk in. Kurt can feel the lingering eyes on them, can see the way Blaine shifts uncomfortably at the attention.

“Do you mind if I, um, use the restroom?” Blaine asks, voice wavering.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Kurt says quickly, reaches his hand out to hold Blaine’s guitar. Their fingers brush as Blaine hands it over and Kurt feels his face flushing, Blaine offering a quick smile and hurrying towards the bathroom.

Kurt finds a rickety table and orders them both coffees and hot sandwiches. He drums his fingers across the table nervously, thoughts racing through his mind faster than he can keep up with. He’s itching to text Rachel, to tell her that he’s _here_ , taking the cute boy from the corner to lunch.

Oh god. He’s taking the cute boy from the corner to lunch. The cute, _homeless_ boy, who he doesn’t know anything about. He could be a drug addict, or a pickpocket, or _anything_. Kurt knows nothing about him, except that he plays nice music and sleeps on park benches. What is he _doing?_ But movement catches his eye, Blaine leaving the bathroom, walking timidly across the diner. He’s not wearing his gloves, his hands pink like he spent too long scrubbing them, his hair awkwardly patted flat, slightly damp around his forehead as if he splashed his face with water. He’s straightened his clothes, and looks so apprehensive and nervous and hopeful that Kurt feels a tightness in his chest and knows he made the right choice.

 Blaine slips gingerly into the chair across from Kurt, his motions more graceful than Kurt would have expected. He runs a nervous hand behind his neck, opens his mouth to say something when the waitress comes with their coffee.

“I ordered for you,” Kurt explains, suddenly doubting himself. “I hope that’s okay.”

Blaine nods,  lets his eyes flutter shut as he wraps his fingers around the cup, taking a sip before it even has a chance to cool off. Kurt bites his lip and stares at his own coffee.

“Thank you,” Blaine says, softly and Kurt looks back up. Blaine’s eyes are wide and earnest, looking at Kurt like he’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. “This is… it’s amazing.”

And Kurt feels that pang, that twist in his gut that this measly cup of coffee is the best thing Blaine’s had in who knows how long.

“It’s no problem,” he says with a shrug, as if he does this sort of thing every day. Kurt takes a sip of his coffee, silence settling over them.

“You’re very good…at guitar,” Kurt adds quickly, ducking to blush. “How did you learn?”

Blaine smiles, but his eyes are downcast. “My brother taught me when I was little.”

“Where is your brother now?” Kurt asks before realizing delving into potentially sensitive family history might not be the best conversation choice. “You don’t have to…”

Kurt’s cut off as the waitress returns with their sandwiches, eyes Blaine warily as he smiles and thanks her.

“It’s okay,” Blaine reassures once the waitress leaves. “Cooper, my brother, he’s… not around.”

It’s purposefully vague and Kurt can see in the way the Blaine focuses in on his sandwich that he doesn’t really want to talk about it.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt mumbles and pokes at his own sandwich. Blaine offers him a reassuring look before he takes a bite and literally _moans_. Kurt just watches, mouth falling open a little in surprise at the sight. Blaine grins sheepishly around his mouthful of sandwich.

“It’s really good.”

Kurt takes an experimental bite of his own sandwich. It’s good, but not amazing. Definitely not worth the sounds Blaine is making and the way he is staring at it like it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten, but Kurt smiles in agreement anyway.

“So, what do you do?” Blaine asks when he swallows his food.

“Um… I go to school, for costume design. I used to be a performance major but, well, my real love has always been with fashion but I wasn’t ready to leave the theater behind so…” Kurt trails off with a blush, wonders how many more times he can blush before all the blood rushes to his head and he passes out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“No, that’s fascinating, really. That you’re so passionate about something.”

Kurt looks at Blaine, really _looks_ , tries to see past the tangled curls and ratted clothes, past the too-pale face and dirty fingernails. He sees the boy staring back at him, a smile curling at his lips. Sees more than the boy on the corner, more than a boy who sleeps on park benches and moans around sandwiches. He sees a boy who’s probably loved something, who’s lost something, who’s just trying to get by, but doesn’t know how.

“Do you…?” Kurt asks, heart suddenly pounding nervously, “have something that you’re passionate about?”

Blaine looks at the sandwich in his hands, eyes far away.

“I did.”

Kurt looks down at Blaine’s guitar, the case battered and worn, the handles smooth from Blaine’s fingers.

“What about your guitar? When you play, I… I can tell. You love it.”

Blaine looks up at Kurt, meets his eyes and Kurt can see the surprise and confusion them, along with something else he can’t quite place. Blaine looks back down.

“I do. Music, it never really leaves you.”

Kurt feels his mouth twitch into a smile.

“I know what you mean.”

“My brother used to tell me that music writes itself into your heart, like a tattoo. Once you have it, it will always be with you.”

Kurt licks his lips, eyes flickering over the boy across from him. “Your brother sounds very smart.”

Blaine smiles, but it’s thin, wavering. “He tried.”

Kurt’s not sure how to interpret that, but the way Blaine focuses his attention on eating tells him that he shouldn’t push the subject, and Kurt lets it go. They eat in silence for awhile, Blaine stopping only to cough; a long, wet cough deep in his lungs. Concern flutters in Kurt’s stomach, memories of Blaine gone from the corner, how tired and worn he looks now and he feels so _helpless_ , like all he has to offer is a measly cup of coffee and a sandwich.

“I hope I’m not interrupting any plans,” Blaine says when Kurt’s phone vibrates once again, still slightly out of breath from his coughing fit. Kurt sighs because he wants to tell Blaine _no, of course you’re not_ , but his group is still waiting for him and due dates are approaching and he can’t justify delaying any longer.

“I have a meeting, I’m sorry.” Kurt’s not really sure why he’s apologizing, but there’s something about this boy, that makes him want to _stay_ , even if he doesn’t know what to say.

“I understand,” Blaine says, standing up.

“You should take these,” Kurt motions towards the halves of their sandwiches that are still uneaten. Blaine looks reluctant, like he’s not sure if Kurt will think he’s asking for more than he should, but nods eventually. Kurt scoops the sandwiches into a box and hands it to Blaine, who holds it gingerly, leaves money for the waitress, and follows Blaine outside. The cold air hits them with a blast, Kurt shivering and Blaine pulling his coat tighter around him. Kurt thinks back to the park bench, how cold Blaine’s hand had felt in his own, an uneasy feeling settling inside him. They hesitate, both looking like they have something to say, but don’t know how to say it.

“Do you…” Kurt starts, bites his lip. “Where are you going to go, now?”

Blaine gives a nonchalant shrug, like the fact that he has nowhere to go is no big deal.

“Do…” Kurt pauses, not quite sure where these words are coming from but unable to stop them. “Do you need a place to stay?”

Blaine looks surprised, searches Kurt’s face with wide, earnest eyes.

“Thank you Kurt, you’re very nice, but… but you don’t want someone like me around.”

Kurt opens his mouth to protest but Blaine shakes his head.

“Really, thank you for lunch, it was amazing. Most people wouldn’t have done something like that, for a stranger. You’re… special, Kurt. Don’t lose that.”

And with another smile Blaine walks away, becomes another nameless person on the street.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt shuffles to the kitchen, hair still bed-messed, a robe thrown around his pajamas, drawn by the smell of brewing coffee. He blinks blearily in the bright kitchen light, makes out Rachel, already dressed, bustling around.

“Coffee’s ready!” She sings, setting a cup in front of Kurt, where he’s collapsed into a chair. “I’m making you a bagel.”

Kurt groans into his cup. “Marry me.”

“Words I never thought I’d hear you say,” Rachel says with a smile, looking at Kurt sympathetically. “Late night?”

Kurt takes a swig of coffee. “You have no idea. All the costume designs are due Friday and my group doesn’t seem to understand the concept of getting things done in a timely manner.” He lets out an exasperated sigh as Rachel pats his back. “And I couldn’t sleep.”

The chair scrapes the floor as Rachel takes a seat across from him, munching on her own bagel. “Any reason?”

Kurt bites his lip, looks up at her. “I bought the boy from the corner lunch.”

Rachel blinks. “What?”

“You know the one who plays guitar?”

She nods. “The cute one?”

 “Um… yeah. I saw him sleeping on a park bench, so… I bought him lunch.” Kurt shrugs like it was no big deal.

Rachel is silent a moment before looking at him insistently. “Well… spill! How did it go? Is he as mysterious as he is cute?”

“His name is Blaine. We talked about music a bit. He seemed… nervous or something.”

“Probably because such a gorgeous stranger brought him to lunch,” Rachel says warmly.

“I just…” Kurt huffs in frustration, glaring into his coffee. “I can’t stop thinking about him. I spent all night worrying if he was outside, freezing. If he ate the leftover sandwiches or not. If he has anywhere to go.”

His cheeks heat up in embarrassment and he can feel Rachel’s eyes on his face, searching.

“It’s natural, to worry about others,” she offers, voice soft, and Kurt looks up at her.

“But I don’t even know him. There are thousands of people out there, Rachel. Why can’t I stop thinking about  _him_? I know nothing about him.”

“You care about people, Kurt. You see good in people where others can only see what’s on the surface.” Rachel reaches across the table, squeezes Kurt’s hand.

“I wish there was something more I could do.”

“So do I,” Rachel agrees, and for once Kurt actually believes her. “Plus, he really is cute. You know, underneath the dirt and the smell. If you got him cleaned up, you could totally have a chance with him.”

Kurt snorts. “Please, Rach. You’d probably have more luck than I would.”

Rachel just winks at him and shoves the rest of her bagel in her mouth.

“Gotta run!” She blows a cream cheese kiss to Kurt as she darts off, scrambling for her coat and bag. Kurt shakes his head as he finishes his own breakfast, carrying his coffee into his room as he gets ready for the day.

-

Every night that week Kurt goes to the coffee shop.

Every night the corner is empty.

-

Memories fade with time and another few days pass, busy with the upcoming projects, the research paper he has to write for his Business class. Stress builds and thoughts of Blaine’s dark curls, his warm honey eyes fade, only an occasional worry.

New York is big and there are lots of places a boy with a guitar could go, Kurt tells himself one day, passing the empty corner, coffee in hand. Blaine probably found somewhere better. Somewhere warm with food and hot coffee and a bed to sleep on.

And so Kurt goes on with his days, so busy he barely has a moment to breathe. But that’s how he likes it, scurrying through the snow with a planner scribbled over and a bloodstream full of caffeine.

**-**

When Kurt said he was going to major in fashion  _and_  business, Rachel had called him insane. When he’d gotten his course load, he’d started to actually believe her. But Kurt had worked in both areas and he was sure he could handle them, with a little time management. Hopefully. He loved the theater and the other students (or most of them) and there really was no other place he would rather spend his days.

Midsemester had passed and they had barely a month to get everything together. Even though he complained about it as much as the other students, Kurt secretly loved this time, when he was so busy he could barely think. It made him feel whole, in a way, like he was really working towards doing what he loved.

It’s after a long day of classes and planning and Kurt is carefully winding his scarf around his neck and buttoning up his jacket, already dreaming of the bed waiting for him at home. He’ll just set his alarm an hour earlier and finish his homework in the morning.

“Hey,” a voice says behind him and Kurt turns to see Lucas, one of his classmates.

“Oh, hi,” Kurt responds with a smile. Kurt’s been working with Lucas on costuming over the semester, and despite the weeks they’ve planned and sewed and rehearsed together, his dimples and easy laugh still make Kurt’s pulse race, his breath catch in his throat.

“So, I’ve been thinking about the costume designs and I have a few more ideas to go over with you,” Lucas says, leaning casually against the wall, brushing his sandy hair from his eyes. “Do you have a free moment this weekend?”

Kurt blinks. “This weekend? Um… sure.”

Lucas smiles and looks at his feet and Kurt thinks he looks almost… nervous. The thought makes his stomach give a little flip and Kurt can feel red rising into his cheeks.

“Great,” Lucas says, looking back up to Kurt. “Are you going to the  party Danica is having on Friday?”

Kurt shrugs. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. Are you?”

“If you are,” Lucas responds smoothly and Kurt can feel the tips of his ears growing red.

“Oh.” Kurt smiles back at Lucas. “Well I’ll be seeing you there then?”

“Great,” Lucas says with a wink.

Kurt bounces the whole walk home.

-

It’s a Wednesday that Kurt goes to the library. He likes to go there sometimes, to get off campus. There’s something calming about the library, a place where he feels like he can take a moment to really breathe. He piles his homework on a table in the little adjoining coffee shop, orders himself a mocha and sits down to get to work.

And pauses.

Across the library, tucked into a plush chair shoved between two book racks, is a boy in a ratty jacket with curly brown hair, a guitar at his feet. His feet are curled under his body, a book open on his lap, head too far forward to actually be reading. Kurt stares a moment, stomach fluttering in a strange mixture of relief and worry.

Before he really knows what he’s doing, Kurt’s standing, hands clenching nervously as he makes his way across the library. When he gets closer he can tell Blaine’s asleep, his lips slightly parted, face calm, chest slowly rising and falling. Kurt pauses, not sure if he should wake him or not. He wants to, fingers itching to reach out and brush Blaine’s shoulder, to invite him over, to stare into his honey eyes a little longer.

Instead he leaves quietly, heads back to the café, approaches the girl at the counter.

“I have a strange request for you,” he starts and the girl,  _Ariel_  her nametag proclaims, raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” she replies smoothly, continuing to scrub at the countertop. Kurt blinks.

“What? No! No, I’m gay,” he stammers and Ariel grins, her face amused.

“Alright, so what is this strange request?” she asks, setting her chin in her palm and Kurt figures this is the most interesting thing to happen to her today.

“Um, you see that boy over there?” Kurt points over at Blaine.

“What, you mean Blaine?” she asks, her lips twitching into a smile.

“Yeah… do you know him?”

“Oh yeah,” Ariel says, scrubbing idly at a spot on the counter. “He comes here a lot. The library doesn’t kick people out during it’s open hours, as long as they’re not being obnoxious. I think he comes here ‘cause it’s warm.”

Kurt stares at Blaine’s sleeping figure, something twisting inside him. Ariel gives a small chuckle.

“He writes me songs. Whenever I’m working and he comes by he has a new song for me. They’re mostly ridiculous, but he’s so sweet.”

Kurt can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Could you, um, bring him a coffee, from me? Whenever he wakes up?”

“Sure thing!” Ariel says, looking excited. “What kind?”

Kurt pauses, considering. “What does he like?”

Ariel shrugs. “Whenever I give him one he always asks for a medium drip, but one time I snuck him a hazelnut latte and I’m pretty sure he was in heaven for fifteen minutes.”

“Let’s go with the hazelnut latte then,” Kurt says with a chuckle, passing her over a five dollar bill. Ariel puts her hand up, brushing back teal streaked hair.

“It’s on the house,” she says with a wink.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks hesitantly. After all, it was  _his_  idea to get Blaine a drink.

“Positive,” Ariel replies smoothly and shoos him away. Kurt turns to head back to his table when she stops him. “Wait, what’s your name?”

“Um, Kurt.”

Ariel scribbles something on the cup and Kurt shakes his head.

-

“Thank you.”

The voice is gentle but Kurt still jumps, so absorbed in his reading that he hadn’t noticed someone approaching. He looks up, heart leaping into his throat when he sees who’s beside him. Blaine’s face looks tired, his eyes still blinking sleepily, but his smile is sincere, his fingers wrapped around the cup Ariel had left beside him.

“For the coffee,” Blaine continues when Kurt does nothing but stare.

“Oh yeah, no problem,” Kurt manages, blushing back down at his homework. He had sort of hoped Blaine wouldn’t wake up until after he was gone, that his act of kindness could have been left as just that.

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell her to add the hearts though?” Blaine turns the cup so Kurt can see his name surrounded in permanent marker hearts has been scribbled on the side. Kurt turns to shoot a glare at Ariel who just shrugs and smiles and goes back to making fresh coffee.

“Sorry about that,” Kurt says, maintaining what he hopes is an air of calm aloofness, probably falling horrible short.

“It’s fine,” Blaine says, turning the coffee nervously in his hands. An awkward silence settles over them, broken only when Blaine coughs into his elbow. Kurt can hear it rattle in his lungs, worry twisting in his stomach.

“Sorry, I’m interrupting you,” Blaine motions to Kurt’s books, shifting uncomfortably. Kurt’s about to protest when Blaine picks his guitar back up. “Thanks again, for the coffee. I’ll see you around?”

And then, once again, Blaine’s gone, before Kurt can even say goodbye. From behind the counter Ariel shrugs and mouths _that’s rough_. Kurt supposes she’s right.

-

The rest of the week passes in the same blur of activity that it started in. Kurt stays up late cutting and sewing costumes, gets up early to study  and it’s Friday before he knows it, the contents of his closet strewn around him as he sorts through his clothes for something to wear, and a certain boy with dimples and sandy hair definitely wasn’t on his mind as he chose between three different pairs of skinny jeans.

And when Kurt’s phone buzzes with a text from that certain boy Kurt definitely doesn’t give a tiny squeal and flop on his bed, phone in hand.

**Lucas [6:42]** _You’re coming tonight, right?_

**Kurt [6:45]** _I said I was, didn’t I?_

**Lucas [6:46]** _Good, you can help me with my crisis then_

**Kurt [6:47]**   _Crisis?_

**Lucas [6:49]** _Do I go with the blue argyle sweater or the red polyester vest?_

**Kurt [6:52]** _Is that even a question?_

**Lucas [6:53] …** _it was a test?_

Kurt pauses, biting his lip before he taps out the next text

**Kurt [6:54]** _Besides, blue brings out the subtle undertones of your eyes_

**Lucas [6:56]** _I’m flattered_

**Kurt [6:57]** _You should be :)_

A smile pulls at Kurt’s lips when Lucas sends a smiley face back and Kurt hops off the bed, determined to make himself look his absolutely best tonight. It’s been over a year since he broke up with Aaron and he’s officially done with feeling sorry about it. He’s twenty-two and single and who knows how the night could end?

-

Kurt pulls his coat tighter when he steps outside, the crisp wind biting through his jacket. He readjusts his scarf and wraps his arms around himself, blinking through the snow. It’s been ridiculously cold for November and Kurt’s starting to wonder if it’s possible to freeze solid in the short walk to Danica’s apartment.

He hums to himself, feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, a smile pulling at his lips. He’s knows it’s Lucas, asking him why he’s not there yet. It’s too cold for him to pull off his gloves to respond, but the thought is enough for him to speed up his steps, the promise of a very  _good_  night ahead of him.

He’s rounding a corner a block away from his usual coffee shop when he hears it. The sound of someone coughing, muffled but rasping. Familiar. Kurt slows, frowns as he looks around. The sun is long set and it’s difficult to see with the yellow light sputtering from a few dying street lights, but after a moment Kurt can make out a shape across the street, huddled under an awning. A shape with curly hair escaping from under a beanie, body wrapped in a tattered jacket. A shape that looks awfully like Blaine.

After a brief hesitation, Kurt crosses the street, eyes watering in the cold. The thin layer of snow crunches under his boots as he approaches the huddled form, his steps slowing.

“Blaine?” Kurt calls softly, desperately hoping he’s right and isn’t approaching some random person at night on the streets of New York. The figure looks up at Kurt’s voice, his movements slow and he gives another cough. Blaine’s face is red from the cold, his hat pulled low over his head, and there’s something… off. Maybe it’s the sluggish way he blinks, the way he frowns like he doesn’t quite recognize who’s in front of him, the way he shivers and tucks his hands more firmly against him.

“Blaine? Are you okay?” Kurt tries again, even though it’s obvious Blaine isn’t okay. Nobody who’s okay would be sitting outside in the freezing cold in nothing but a threadbare jacket. Blaine just coughs again, his whole body shaking with it and Kurt crouches down beside him, fear creeping through his veins.

“Blaine, hey, can you look at me?” Kurt tries to draw Blaine’s focus, heart pounding in his chest. Glazed eyes drift over his face, breath fogging the air as he lets out a stilted exhale. “Blaine, it’s Kurt? I bought you coffee, remember?”

Blaine blinks. “Kurt,” he murmurs, turns his head to cough, gasping and heaving, and Kurt can hear him desperately trying to draw in enough air.

“Shit,” Kurt mutters, hands hovering over Blaine, unsure. This is way outside of his depth, he knows. This is something that can’t be fixed with a cup of coffee or a sandwich. A stifling sense of  _real_  surrounds him, the knowledge that Blaine has been sitting out here, alone and freezing, while Kurt was stressing over which color to wear, idly wondering if maybe tonight will end in a kiss.

Kurt’s phone vibrates again and he stills, torn. More than anything he wishes he could just forget, just turn away, walk the few blocks to the party and everything that’s waiting for him there. But he remembers warm eyes, the way Blaine had patted down his hair at the café, had clutched his hazelnut latte so tightly, and he can’t. He can’t just leave Blaine here, where he could very well die.

Life has never seemed so frail before, not since Kurt had lost his mother so long ago. The stark realization that if Kurt just left, just stood up and walked away, Blaine probably wouldn’t survive the night, not like this, fills Kurt, brings frustrated tears to his eyes. He swallows it down, along with the awareness that he’s the  _only_  one here for Blaine. Kind, sweet, always smiling Blaine. And Kurt, practically a stranger, is the only one here to help him out.

“Okay, um, Blaine? Is there anywhere I can take you?” Kurt pauses, thinking. “A… shelter or something?”

Blaine just looks at him for a moment before shaking his head.

“Cold,” he says, voice barely a croak, giving another violent shiver. Kurt curses softly, scrubs his hand over his face.

“Okay, here, let me help you.” Kurt reaches his hand out, gripping under Blaine’s elbow. Blaine wavers when they stand, leaning heavily against Kurt, his fingers tightening around Kurt’s arm for support. It’s now that Kurt notices Blaine doesn’t have his guitar, thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen him without it.

“My apartments only a few blocks, we’ll go there and then figure something out,” Kurt says, more to himself than anything but he thinks it says something about Blaine’s condition that he doesn’t even react, simply lets himself be led to a random stranger’s home.

They walk in silence, only stopping a few times when Blaine stumbles. Kurt ends up snaking an arm around Blaine’s back to anchor him, Blaine’s fingers somehow making their way around Kurt’s wrist, Kurt speeding up their pace when he feels how cold Blaine’s skin is.

After what seems like the longest walk ever, they make it to Kurt’s apartment building, Blaine practically melting as warmth surrounds them. Kurt tightens his grip, pulling Blaine over to the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor.

When they finally make it inside the tiny apartment, Kurt steers Blaine to the couch, lowering him onto the cushions, Blaine immediately doubling over to cough.

“Okay, okay,” Kurt murmurs, mind racing. He takes a deep breath, tries to prioritize his thoughts. Blaine slumps back against the couch when he finishes coughing, head drooping, looking completely exhausted. He’s still shivering, despite being inside the warm apartment so Kurt grabs all the extra blankets in the living room, draping them around Blaine’s shoulders.

“I think I read somewhere that if you have hypothermia I’m supposed to get naked with you,” Kurt rambles and then blushes. “I hope these blankets will work instead.”

Blaine clutches the blankets close around him, his eyes beginning to droop closed.

“I’m, um, I’m going to make a call quick, okay?”

But Blaine’s already half asleep, and Kurt’s not sure if he’s really that aware of what is happening around him so he steals away into his bedroom, pulling his phone from his pocket. He has two missed texts, both from Lucas, asking where he is. Kurt groans, a brief moment of disappointment sweeping through him at his missed opportunity, immediately swallowed by guilt at the thought. He pauses a moment, biting his lip before tapping out a response.

**Kurt [8:52]** _Sorry, an emergency came up_

**Lucas [8:52]** _Are you ok? do you need help?_

Kurt pauses, thinking.

**Kurt [8:53]** _I’m fine. It’s a friend. I won’t be able to make it tonight_

**Lucas [8:54]** _Oh, k. I hope your friend is alright._

**Kurt [8:54]** _Thank you. Me too._

The sound of Blaine’s coughing filters through the door, slightly muffled. Kurt fumbles with his phone, shifting through his contacts before putting it to his ear.

“Kurt?” Rachel’s voice comes through the other line, barely audible through the noise in the background. “What’s up? Shouldn’t you be making out right now?”

“Rachel, I brought him home,” Kurt blurts out, his fingers gripping the phone until his knuckles turn white.

“Why are you telling me this,  _god_ ,” Rachel giggles and there’s a scratching sound, like she’s covering the mouthpiece to whisper to her friends.

“Not Lucas,” Kurt hisses. “ _Blaine_.”

“What?”

“You know, the boy from the corner? He was just there, Rachel, in the cold. And he’s sick and he would probably  _die_  and I couldn’t just leave him there, I couldn’t just…” His voice wavers as an unexpected wave of emotion washes over him, pricking at his eyes and closing his throat.

“Kurt, slow down, okay?” Rachel’s voice is calm, practiced in the way she knows when Kurt gets worked up. “Take a deep breath.”

Kurt obeys, sucking air in through his nose before releasing it through his mouth.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Kurt mutters, blinking back the tears in his eyes. “I just couldn’t leave him, Rachel.”

“You did the right thing then,” Rachel says. “How sick is he? Do you think he needs the hospital?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt answers honestly. “He keeps coughing and he’s so cold, I just… what if he has hypothermia? Oh god, Rachel, what if he dies  _here_?”

There’s a sigh through the phone, the noise in the background becoming more faint. “You’re doing it again, Kurt. He’s not going to die, okay? You took excellent care of me when I had the flu last winter, so I can attest to your skills of not letting people die. I’m going to come home now, okay? Do what you can to help him warm up and we’ll figure things out when I get home.”

“Thank you, Rach,” Kurt says, finally feeling like he can breathe a little better. Rachel offers him another word of encouragement before hanging up. Kurt drops the phone onto the bed, takes off his jacket and unwinds his scarf, steeling himself before heading back into the living room.

Blaine has managed to slide sideways on the couch, sitting at what looks like an uncomfortable angle, head resting against his shoulder, blankets still clutched tightly around him. He blinks at Kurt when he approaches, eyes tired and confused. Hands hover over Blaine before Kurt mentally berates himself for being ridiculous. He presses the back of his hand to Blaine’s forehead, the rough stubble of his cheek, tries to ignore the way his stomach flips when Blaine leans into the touch.

“You still feel too cold,” Kurt says softly, withdrawing his hand. “I would have you take a shower but I think a bath might be better. And then maybe some soup?”

Blaine doesn’t respond other than to droop his head forward and Kurt chuckles despite the situation.

“Come on.” Kurt slides his arm under Blaine’s again, makes sure the blankets stay around his shoulders as he pulls him to his feet, guides him to the bathroom. He plops Blaine onto the toilet seat, readjusts the blankets before turning on the faucet.

“We probably don’t want it too hot,” Kurt says, talking mostly for his own benefit. He looks around, considering. “Maybe some bubbles? Oh! And this lavender bath salt. It’s Rachel’s but it does fabulous things for your skin. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Kurt sprinkles the salts in the bath, watching the water turn a faint purple, bubbles beginning to drift across the rising surface. The bathroom is already beginning to fog, steam curling into the air and Kurt turns his attention away from the water to the boy beside him.

“Okay, so, clothes,” Kurt narrows his eyes, taking in Blaine’s jacket, his jeans, shoes, gloves, all riddled with holes and stained with dirt. “You can borrow some of mine after your bath, there’s no way I’m letting you get back in those.”

Kurt eases the shoes off Blaine’s feet, scrunches his nose, starting to seriously wonder when was the last time Blaine had a shower. Or changed his clothes. The socks come next and Kurt stuffs those in the toes of Blaine’s shoes, tosses them outside the bathroom door.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, unwinding the blankets from Blaine’s shoulders, dropping them to the ground beside them. Blaine’s eyes follow Kurt as he slips the gloves off Blaine’s hands, pulls the hat from his head. Blaine’s hair is matted down, so different from the vibrant curls that had attracted Kurt’s attention months ago.

“Oh Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, the lump back in his throat. He barely knows the boy in front of him but he’s struck by the urge to gather him in his arms, to hold him and tell him that everything is okay. This boy who he’s only spoken to a few times, who has always been so full of life, who’s smile warmed Kurt from his toes to his hair, who writes silly little songs for girls in coffee shops. Who’s now slumped on Kurt’s toilet seat, shivering and coughing and so, so small.

“Thank you,” Blaine whispers, and Kurt nearly jumps in surprise. Blaine’s eyes are less glazed, lips just curved enough that Kurt knows he’s warming up, awareness creeping in.

“For what?” Kurt asks nonchalantly, like he brings homeless people home every day. He works at getting Blaine’s jacket off, made easier now that Blaine is cooperating.

“For helping me,”  Blaine answers, his voice breaking off into a cough. Kurt rubs his back soothingly, a new confidence growing in him, a determination to make sure that Blaine is okay. Blaine  _deserves_  to be okay.

“It’s no problem,” Kurt responds lightly when Blaine’s done coughing, tugging at Blaine’s sweater. “Shirt, please.”

Blaine lifts his arms halfway up his chest, lets Kurt pull the threadbare sweater over his head, immediately pausing. There’s no shirt under the sweater, only Blaine’s bare chest. No wonder Blaine was so cold, Kurt realizes, the severity of Blaine’s situation sinking in even more, along with the realization that if Kurt had left, hadn’t drug Blaine back here, there’s no way he would have survived the night. Not with so little clothing.

Kurt swallows around the painful lump in his throat, turns his attention back to the bathtub, the water now nearing the top. The handles squeak as he twists them, the water turning off, the bathroom now filled with heavy silence. Blaine’s staring at his knees, his fingers stroking over the smooth porcelain under him. He’s looks too thin for his body type, Kurt notes, his ribs too defined, his stomach too flat.

“Can you, um,” Kurt hesitates, feels red creeping unwanted into his cheeks. “Can I help you, with your pants?”

His face is burning and for all he knows Blaine is the straightest man in the world and the last thing he wants is another guy to help him take of his pants and get in a bath, but he still looks ready to fall over any second and Kurt doesn’t trust him to not drown if he’s left alone.

But Blaine doesn’t say anything, just fumbles with the button of his jeans, lets Kurt pull him up high enough to push them past his knees, onto the floor. Kurt takes his time folding the jeans, placing them on the pile of clothes just outside the door before turning back. Blaine’s just in his underwear, shivering on the toilet seat, looking so exposed and so small that Kurt’s not sure he can do this. He can’t strip someone he barely knows, someone who doesn’t even know what’s happening around him, naked and give him a bath. It seems weird and… wrong, no matter how cold Blaine is.

There’s a crash as the front door bangs open and Rachel enters, Kurt breathing a sigh of relief. He can hear her hanging up her jacket, throwing things onto the couch before he head peaks into the bathroom, eyebrows raising at the sight in front of her.

“Well hello,” Rachel greets Blaine, stepping into the bathroom. Blaine just blinks up at her, body shaking with a shiver.

“He’s really out of it,” Kurt says, wrapping the blankets back around Blaine’s shoulders. “He’s so cold and I think he’s really sick.”

Rachel steps forward and presses her hand to Blaine’s forehead, his head bobbing slightly as he leans into her hand.

“Poor guy,” she says, withdrawing her hand. “I can’t imagine being stuck outside in this weather.” She looks between Blaine and the full bathtub.

“Why haven’t you gotten him in the bath?”

Kurt looks down at his hands. “I was hoping you could do it?”

“What? Why? You brought him home!”

“I know, but…” Kurt huffs, grabs Rachel’s arm and pulls her from the bathroom. Rachel crosses her arms outside the door, narrowing her eyes at him. “Rachel, I can’t just give him a bath.”

“Why not?” Rachel challenges and Kurt glances back at Blaine nervously.

“Because, I just… it doesn’t feel right,” Kurt says, voice deflating. “He doesn’t even know me, Rachel. Who wants a complete stranger bathing them?”

“I’m a complete stranger,” Rachel points out and Kurt glares at her.

“You’re a pretty  _girl_  stranger,” Kurt counters. “It’s not like I don’t want to give him a bath… that sounded wrong. I just don’t want him to freak out when he finds out I’m gay, and think I tried to take advantage of him.”

“He could say I tried to take advantage of him too, you know. Besides, if he tries to tell anyone you took advantage of him after you saved his  _life_ , then he’s a total asshole.”

“Please Rachel?” Kurt asks again. He knows Rachel’s right. Blaine’s so out of it right now he probably wouldn’t really notice it was Kurt helping him. But that’s the problem. Blaine doesn’t know what’s going on, and beneath the dirt and grime and puffy eyes Kurt does find Blaine attractive, can’t in good conscience see  _all_  of Blaine without feeling like he’s violating Blaine’s trust. 

“All right,” Rachel says with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll go bathe sick boy.”

Kurt thanks her as she turns back into the bathroom, dipping her finger into the water before turning to glare back at Kurt.

“You used my bath salts!”

-

Kurt sits just outside the door as Rachel helps Blaine with the bath. He can hear her talking softly to him, the sound of water splashing. He shouts instructions at her until she threatens to make him come finish the bath if he doesn’t stop. He sits quietly after that, content to listen to Rachel’s humming for awhile, until he pushes himself to his feet, makes his way to his bedroom. Blaine’s going to need some pajamas because there is no way Kurt is letting him put his dirty clothes back on.  

He picks out soft flannel pants he wears on cold winter nights, a  _Hummel’s Tire and Lube_  oversized t-shirt and a hoodie that is his favorite to wrap up in when he’s sick. On an afterthought he grabs a pair of warm socks and a pair of underwear he’s only worn once, and hopes Blaine won’t mind.  He steps into the bathroom just enough to lay the clothes on the countertop, smiles at the sight of Blaine, sopping wet with bubbles up to his chin, staring at Rachel like she’s a rare exotic bird. He looks better, his eyes more alert, his skin flushed with pink from the warm water.

“Hi?” he rasps, looking at Rachel. Rachel smiles at him and he flops his arm in the water.

“Hi,” Rachel says back to him. “Are you feeling any better?”

Blaine gives a small nod. “It’s warm.”

“Good,” Rachel responds, rinsing the soap off his shoulders.

“I’m Blaine,” Blaine says, coughing weakly. Rachel chuckles, rubs a hand over his back until his breathing evens back out.

“Nice to meet you, Blaine. I’m Rachel, I live here, with Kurt,” Rachel says softly and Kurt never fails to be amazed at Rachel’s tender side, when it makes an appearance.

“Here,” Blaine repeats, eyes sweeping the bathroom as if finally realizing he’s somewhere new.

“Kurt brought you home with him,” Rachel says, reaching to drain the tub and Kurt turns to leave. “He probably saved your life too so you should write him a thank you note or something. Or maybe do our dishes, that seems fair.”

The rest of Rachel’s rambling fades as Kurt enters the living room, eyeing the couch. It had been an old couch of Rachel’s dads, slightly lumpy but comfortable enough. Kurt runs his hand on the brown fabric, worries that maybe it’s too scratchy and Blaine will get itchy. He can’t really explain it, but he has an overwhelming need to make everything  _okay_  for Blaine tonight, to make him as comfortable and at-home as he can, like that will somehow make up for the fact Blaine was out in the cold with nowhere to go until Kurt found him.

He pulls a spare set of sheets from the linen closet, grabs the extra pillows from his room, turning the couch into a make shift bed. Rachel leads Blaine from the room a moment later, his damp curls sticking to his forehead and Kurt’s fingers itch to brush out the tangles, but Blaine’s eyelids are drooping, his face lined with exhaustion and Kurt knows it can wait.

“I feel like a puddle,” Blaine murmurs as Rachel pushes him to sit on the couch. Wide eyes look up to meet Kurt’s, framed by impossibly long lashes. “-m I a puddle?”

“He keeps saying stuff like that,” Rachel says, amusement and concern on her face. “I think he has a fever.”

Kurt considers Blaine, who’s still looking up at him, perplexed.

“You’re not a puddle Blaine, promise,” Kurt says, and Blaine looks dubious but nods.

“Are you hungry?” Kurt asks, tries to remember if they have anything he could make for Blaine. “I think we have some soup.”

Blaine blinks. “You have a pretty face,” he says, eyes lowering. “And socks.”

Kurt frowns, glances back at Rachel who’s right behind him. She shrugs back at him.

“Thanks?” she says and Blaine’s face falls for a moment.

“Okay, how about we sleep instead?” Kurt suggests, and Blaine nods, coughs wracking his body as Kurt helps maneuver him under the covers.

“Puddle,” Blaine mutters, nuzzling slightly against the pillow, Kurt’s heart thumping an uneven rhythm at the sight. He can hear a rattling deep in Blaine’s chest when he breaths, his skin still flushed, but his face is relaxed, the slightest of smiles on his lips as he burrows under the blankets and Kurt can’t imagine how he had ever even considered leaving Blaine outside.

“Goodnight, puddle,” Kurt says softly, hand reaching forward to stroke through Blaine’s hair when he stops himself, pulls back. Rachel pats his shoulder before leaving the room with a quiet goodnight.

-

Kurt sits on the chair all night, watching over Blaine.

When he sleeps he dreams of an endless land of snow and a boy just out of reach.


	3. Chapter 3

 

  


Kurt wakes up with a cramp in his calf and a crick in his neck. He grumbles and stretches his arms over his head, feels the pop of his back cracking in the way that’s so satisfying in the morning. His head is pounding slightly but he doesn’t feel hung over and the last time he woke up in this chair he was in nothing but his underwear and a feather boa with glitter in his hair and empty beer bottles littered around the floor. There’s no bottles, no Rachel passed out on the floor, nothing expect a pile of blankets on the couch and…

Oh yeah.

Blinking fully awake Kurt can make out a mess of dark curls just barely poking out from under the blankets, can see the steady rise and fall of the human-sized lump. Of Blaine. He groans and lets his head fall against his knees because he knows he did the right thing but there’s still a stranger sleeping on his couch and he has too much else going on in his life right now to worry about this. At least it’s a Saturday.

Shuffling out of the living room Kurt makes his way back to his bedroom, frowning when he realizes it’s barely passed seven. Rachel won’t be up for an hour or two more and who knows how long Blaine will sleep for. So he decides to pass some time taking a long shower, moisturizing his skin, dressing in relaxed jeans and a t-shirt for the weekend. After a silent debate in the hallway Kurt brings Blaine’s clothes down the hall to their shared laundry room, plugs some quarters into the machine. He tries not to think about how worn the denim of Blaine’s jeans feel, how threadbare his sweater is, how his socks smell in that way only weeks without washing will do.

The door creaks when he reenters the apartment because the hinge needs to be oiled and neither Kurt nor Rachel has had the time or the interest to do so. The Blaine-shaped lump stirs, stills, before shooting up, blankets slipping off the couch onto the floor. Blaine’s eyes are wide, his hair pressed flat on one side, his cheeks flushed and he immediately doubles over to cough, long and rasping and it sounds so painful Kurt winces. He makes his way quietly into the kitchen, not wanting to alarm Blaine just yet, pulls the bag of emergency throat lozenges Rachel keeps at the ready, before approaching Blaine slowly.

“Cough drop?” Kurt asks, keeping his voice gentle and Blaine looks at him warily, eyes confused but shadowed by tired bags and he gives a small nod. Kurt pulls one out of the bag and unwraps it before handing it to Blaine, who pops it in his mouth, swallows a few times, clears his throat.

“Where am I?” His voice is rough from coughing, edged with a trace of fear and Kurt supposes he would be scared if he woke up in a stranger’s house too.

“You’re in my apartment,” Kurt explains as soft and nonthreatening as he can, wants Blaine to feel comfortable. “I brought you home last night when you were really sick.”

“Oh,” Blaine murmurs, glancing down at himself, his thumb running over the material of Kurt’s pajamas and Kurt can only imagine what Blaine’s thinking.

“Um, you were freezing so Rachel, my roommate, helped you with a bath last night,” Kurt rushes to explain, his face starting to burn, an embarrassed pink rising in Blaine’s cheeks. “I promise I… nothing… you were just so cold and I was so worried and…”

Kurt trails off, swallowing thickly, tries to gather his thoughts because he doesn’t want to scare Blaine any more than he probably already has.

“I wasn’t sure if you had anywhere to go so we made you a bed on the couch. Those are my pajamas, um, I put your clothes in the wash, I hope that’s alright. I’m really sorry if we overstepped-”

“No,” Blaine says before Kurt can splutter more apologies. “No, thank you. For helping me.”

Kurt tries to offer him a smile but Blaine’s looking back down at his legs, shoulders drawn in and eyes blinking tiredly.

“You can sleep more if you want,” Kurt offers, picking up the blankets that had fallen to the ground and putting them on the couch next to Blaine. Blaine’s head jerks back up like he’d forgotten Kurt was there and Kurt feels worry stirring in his stomach.

“No, I should… I should go…” Blaine mumbles, makes to stand up before he coughs, the sound rattling deep in his lungs.

“Stay,” Kurt says quickly, his hand touching Blaine’s knee before he quickly pulls it away. “At least until we can figure something out? Please?”

Blaine looks at Kurt, looks like he wants to protest but just can’t muster the energy, and nods.

“Thank you,” Kurt whispers, his voice caught in his throat, and he’s not sure what he’s thanking Blaine for; for staying safe, for trusting him, for letting him help. Because he _wants_ to help, he can’t explain why, he’s never felt this drive to help someone before, has always been so focused on his own goals, on making his own way in a world that’s never seemed to fully appreciate him. And now this boy, with his skin that needs some lotion and a little color, with mats in his hair and wrist bones that are too prominent, is sitting here in his living room looking like Atlas with the world on his shoulders and nowhere to put it.

Kurt can’t take it all away, can’t fix things, but maybe he can help. Maybe he can help Blaine rest. At least for a little while.

-

The smell of freshly made coffee fills the small apartment; Kurt sips on his cup (pale brown with French vanilla creamer and two teaspoons of sugar) and tries not to watch Blaine sleep. There’s a fine line between being charitable and being creepy and Kurt is determined not to cross it.

Rachel emerges from her room half an hour later, her hair mussed from sleep, bunny slippers padding her footsteps. Kurt just smiles at her, knows from experience that a conversation with Rachel before her coffee never ends well, and she slides into the seat beside his, nudges his shoulder with hers as he takes a large swig from her mug.

“How’s our beautiful stranger doing?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt answers honestly, his hands tightening around his coffee cup. “He woke up a bit ago and seemed a little better than last night but I think he’s still sick.”

He looks at Rachel, sees the way she’s chewing at her lip with concern before whispering, “I just don’t know what we should do.”

“We’ll do what he needs,” Rachel says with a soft smile, her hand giving Kurt’s arm a squeeze.

So they try.

-

Blaine wakes up close to noon and Kurt knows something is wrong. His breaths are coming too fast, his hands shaking, his forehead shining with sweat, and the way he barely can lift his head from the couch shows Kurt how horrible he must feel. Rachel makes him some tea with honey in it but he can barely drink it between his trembling and constant coughing. They share a glance, Rachel’s eyes filled with  a worry that Kurt knows is reflected in his own.

“Blaine?” Rachel starts, sitting on the couch beside him, pressing the back of her hand against Blaine’s forehead and wincing. “I think you need to go to the hospital.”

Blaine shakes his head, looks at Rachel with panicky, fever-glassy eyes.

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he rasps, repeats the words over and over under his breath.

“You’re not fine,” Rachel says, voice gentle in a way that Kurt rarely hears from her. “You’re really sick.”

“I’m fine,” Blaine bats her hand away, “I’ll be fine, just… I just need some sleep.”

“You need medicine,” Kurt insists, kneeling beside him and Blaine turns his head to face him, his eyes welling with tears.

Blaine whispers, “I can’t afford that,” and Kurt feels his heart pound against his ribcage because no one should look so desperate and devastated and alone.

“That’s okay,” Rachel squeezes his arm. “There’s a free clinic not too far away. We’ll go there.”

“Let us help you, just today?” Kurt adds at the reluctant look Blaine gives her and he’s about to say something when he coughs, deep in his lungs, tries desperately to catch his breath.

And then, “okay.”

-

Kurt calls a cab because there’s no way he’s hauling Blaine into a subway in this condition. It’s difficult enough to maneuver Blaine into a jacket and wrestle him out the door and into the elevator when he can barely stand and has to pause to cough every few minutes. Rachel’s left at home in charge of the laundry and Kurt promises to call with any news.

The snow from last night has melted with the morning sun into a sludge that manages to soak into Kurt’s pants despite his mid-calf boots and he knows the shoes he leant Blaine are doing no better. Blaine doesn’t complain as they make their way across the parking lot into the tiny clinic, just leans heavily against Kurt’s side and this close Kurt can _feel_ the rattle with every breath Blaine takes. The air still mists in front of his face and Kurt shivers, tries to push out the thoughts of Blaine staying the night in the cold, freezing and coughing and…

The realization is as startling as having his head dunked in a tub of ice water. If Kurt hadn’t been going to that party, if he hadn’t taken an hour to pick out his clothes, or hadn’t decided on walking over taking a cab, Blaine would probably still be on the street, would probably not have survived the night. And Kurt can feel the heat from Blaine’s body, the beating of his heart in his chest, the hand that grips Kurt’s elbow when he feels unsteady, can see the perspiration on Blaine’s forehead despite the cold, the way his eyelashes fall heavy on his cheeks when he blinks, his lips that are peeling and pink from nights spent out in the bitter wind. Suddenly he can feel and see and smell everything about Blaine, about this boy he barely knows beside a few blushing glances and a sandwich in a diner, about this boy who wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him. For Kurt. Kurt who saved his _life_.

So if Kurt holds Blaine a little bit tighter, a little closer, it’s just because he’s never wanted someone to be okay as much as now, hasn’t been so vested in someone’s health since his father’s heart attack. He _needs_ Blaine to be okay, even if he never sees him again. He needs this.

-

The receptionist takes one look at Blaine and gives him an ugly baby blue mask to wear and a clipboard of paperwork to fill out. Kurt thanks her and steers Blaine to a chair, helps him slip the straps of the mask behind his ears before taking the seat beside him.

“Alright, they’re not going to charge you but we have to fill out some paperwork before your appointment, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine agrees in a whisper, tries to take the clipboard and pen from Kurt but his hands are shaking and it drops to the floor in a mess of papers. Kurt rests a hand on Blaine’s knee to still him from trying to pick it up.

“Let me,” Kurt insists, picking up the clipboard and situating it on his lap. “I’ll fill it out, you just give me the answers, okay?”

Blaine  nods, slumping back in his chair.

“Full name?”

“Blaine Matthew Anderson.”

“Date of birth?”

“December 31st, 1994.”

“New Years baby,” Kurt murmurs as he fills in his own information for Blaine’s emergency contact, filing the information away for later.

“Allergies?”

Blaine shakes his head, turns away from Kurt to cough, seems like he can’t catch his breath no matter how hard he tries.

“Any past surgeries?” Kurt asks when Blaine’s calmed slightly. He’s looking up at him with those huge hazel eyes and Kurt knows he just wants to sleep, to curl back up under the mountain of blankets on the couch and Kurt can’t really blame him. If he felt as awful as Blaine looks like he feels it would take a lot more than one person to get him out of bed.

“Um, wisdom teeth,” Blaine rasps, brow furrowing and he shrugs uncomfortably. “I had my arm pinned when I was fifteen.”

“Okay,” Kurt says quietly, scratching the pen over paper. They tick off all the chronic illnesses, Blaine shaking his head at every one. Kurt flips the page, wondering how much paperwork they could possibly have to do, scans the rest of the questions and shifts awkwardly. “Um, do you have any history of drug or alcohol use?”

Blaine looks at his knees, eyes half lidded and Kurt can’t help feel like he’s prying into a private part of Blaine’s life, that suddenly Blaine has to share everything he might want to keep to himself to a total stranger.

“You don’t have…” Kurt starts when Blaine nods to cut him off, clears his throat.

“Yes, um, in the past. Not… not anymore.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Kurt mumbles, thinks he’s starting to sound like a broken record but he just doesn’t know what to _say_ , what the rules are for a situation like this.

“Nothing bad,” Blaine says, voice edged with something that sounds like desperation, like he needs to justify himself to Kurt, to prove himself somehow. “Nothing bad, I promise.”

Kurt swallows, lets himself rub a tentative hand on Blaine’s arm for comfort.

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

Blaine looks back at his knees, doesn’t respond so Kurt turns back to the paperwork and winces.

“Any STDs?”

A quiet _no_ , muffled behind the mask and Kurt’s finishes the paperwork on his own, brings it up to the receptionist who tells them it will be a short wait until they can get it. Kurt thanks her and returns to his seat, smiles sadly at the way Blaine’s head keeps dipping, sleep pulling at his consciousness.

“You can rest, it will be a few minutes,” Kurt whispers, cautiously putting his arm around Blaine and pulling him closer. Blaine doesn’t protest, his head falling to Kurt’s shoulder, his body heavy and warm against Kurt, looking so small and foreign in Kurt’s pajamas, not at all like the boy he’d seen on the corner all those weeks ago.

And as Blaine’s breathing evens out, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets exhaustion pull him under, Kurt’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, Kurt’s struck with the thought that you never really know someone, not really. Seeing Blaine on the corner, smiling and happy, strumming his guitar in his patched jacket, he couldn’t begin to imagine him as the quiet, vulnerable boy sleeping on his shoulder, a boy with a past and a history and things that have happened to him. A boy with secrets and passions and other people in his life, with good and bad, a childhood and a future.

Kurt thinks he’d like to know these things about Blaine, given the chance. He’d like to find out what’s behind the easy smiles, the songs written for girls in the library, the love of hazelnut lattes. He’d like to know Blaine Anderson, the person, the lost boy, so much more than just someone who plays guitar on street corners.

Against him Blaine twitches, sighs, and sleeps.

-

**Kurt to Rachel [2:08]** _He has pneumonia, I’m picking up some antibiotics at the pharmacy and we’ll be back home_

**Rachel to Kurt [2:09]** _One of my dads had pneumonia in hs, I know just what to do_

**Kurt to Rachel [2:10]** _He needs rest, not smothering_

**Rachel to Kurt [2:12]** _Vegan chicken noodle soup is not smothering Kurt_

**Rachel to Kurt [2:15]** _Do you think I can put this on my resume?_

**Kurt to Rachel [2:16]** _Rachel._

**Rachel to Kurt [2:17]** _What?_

-

Rachel manages to get two bowls of her vegan soup into Blaine before he nearly passes out into the bowl. This time Kurt leads Blaine into his room, transfers the mountain of blankets back onto his bed, knowing Blaine needs somewhere quiet if he wants to get some sleep. He mumbles something that sounds like a protest but doesn’t put up a fight when Kurt maneuvers him under the covers, leaves a glass of water and a stack of saltines on his bedside table. Blaine’s asleep almost instantly and Kurt pauses at the door, watching Blaine snuggle down under the covers and he wonders when his heart became so big.

-

One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

A gruff, “hello?”

“Hey dad.”

“Kurt, hey, what’s up?”

Kurt crosses his legs, draws in a deep breath.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

A beat of silence and then, “are you okay? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“No, I’m fine, um, it’s just…”

Kurt hesitates and Burt sighs, the sound crackling over the phone.

“What is it, Kurt?”

He might as well just go for it.

“I found someone and…”

“You mean you have a boyfriend?” Burt’s voice cuts Kurt off, lifting with confusion.

“No, dad, just… listen first, okay?”

“Alright,” Burt acquiesces.

“So, I found someone, his name his Blaine, and he’s been living on the streets because he has nowhere to go and yesterday I saw him outside when I was going to a dance and he was freezing cold and sick, dad, he was really sick so I brought him home with me-”

“Hold up,” Burt juts in, voice harder than before. “You brought a homeless person home with you?”

“Um… yes.”

“Kurt…”

“ _Dad_ , he’s sick and he’s younger than I am. He would have _died_ if I just left him outside.”

“So take him to a homeless shelter. You can’t just bring people home like puppies, Kurt. I know you have a soft side but what do you know about this kid, huh? He could be a drug dealer or try and rob you while you sleep!”

“Dad, he’s not like that. I’ve… talked to him before and he’s always been so kind and he really needed our help. Look, I know you aren’t going to be happy about this but Rachel is here too and she agrees that we can’t just send him off to a shelter. I took him to the doctor today and he’s got some pretty bad pneumonia and we want to keep him here until he gets better.”

A reluctant sigh. “You’re right, I’m not very happy about this. I don’t know how I feel about you bringing home people you know nothing about. But I trust you, Kurt. You’ve got good instincts and I know you wouldn’t put Rachel in danger either. Do what you need to get this Blaine guy on his feet, but be careful, alright? Be smart.”

A smile cracks at Kurt’s lips and he bounces in his chair. “I will, I promise.”

“Well, just, let me know if you need anything, ‘kay? And I expect you to check in with me every day.”

“Of course, every day.”

A grunt on the other end, unsure grumbling.

“I’ve got to run now dad, I love you?”

“Yeah, love you too, Kurt. Take care.”

-

Blaine sleeps through the weekend. Rachel and Kurt take turns checking on him; Rachel always stroking her fingers through his hair and adjusting his blankets while Kurt refills his water and makes sure he takes his meds. He blinks awake long enough to use the bathroom a few times and for Rachel to shove a few more bowls of soup into him, but otherwise he’s their silent houseguest, his presence known only from the muffled coughs through the walls.

It gives Kurt time to finish the readings for his classes, outlines his paper, make a few minor adjustments to the costume designs he’s been working on. He responds when Lucas asks him about his emergency, assures him that everything is fine and he’ll see him on Monday.

And he wonders  how it’s possible for a weekend to feel so remarkably normal when everything has changed.


	4. Chapter 4

 

A post-it note, left on a stack of saltines.

_Blaine - help yourself to any food you need. I left clean towels and pajamas in the bathroom. I won’t be back until six so make yourself at home – Kurt_

_-_

Kurt buttons up his jacket, tucks in his scarf, prepares for the bite of an oncoming winter. It’s not quite as cold as the weekend, but still unusually cold for before Thanksgiving. He thinks of Blaine, hopefully still at home, warm and under the covers, safe out of the elements, feels a smile tug at his lips. The kind that comes with knowing you did the right thing, even if others don’t quite understand.

“Hey, Kurt.” A voice pulls him from his thoughts and Kurt turns, sees Lucas grinning widely behind him.

“Oh, Lucas, hi,” Kurt greets, bites his lip in surprise when Lucas pulls him into a quick hug. Are they really at the hugging point?

“We missed you this weekend,” he says, letting Kurt go, eyes flickering over his body and Kurt shifts, readjusts his scarf. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, sorry. I really did have an emergency,” Kurt apologizes earnestly, because he _did_ want to go to the party and it’s been so long since he’s had any sort of relationship, even a casual one, and Lucas is very attractive and…

No. Stop.

“Where are you going now?” Lucas asks, nodding towards Kurt’s bag.

“My next class isn’t until one so I thought I’d get some lunch,” Kurt answers, trailing his voice off in an open invitation.

“Mind some company?”

“Not at all,” Kurt says, blushing when Lucas reaches to hold the door open.

“So how is your friend?” Lucas asks and it takes Kurt a moment to process, the cold wind biting through his jacket and slowing

“He’s okay, I’m sure he’ll recover fully under Rachel’s mothering,” Kurt says and Lucas gives a tiny smile, even if he doesn’t completely understand.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

An awkward silence settles between them, and Kurt walks a little faster, his hand clutching the strap of his bag a little tighter.

“Any plans for Thanksgiving next week?” Lucas asks after a moment, and Kurt tries to be flattered that Lucas is _trying_ , is interested in Kurt.

“No, I think I’m just going to stay here, try and get ahead on my designs. Probably stare listlessly into a bowl of mashed potatoes or try and get my roommate drunk enough to let me buy her a new wardrobe. You?”

Lucas chuckles, looks at Kurt like he’s something indecipherable, and Kurt sort of likes it that way. “I’ll be going home. My sister scored some tickets to Beyonce and her boyfriend bailed on her so she’s forcing me to go.”

“Forcing you? What? Why? That’s fantastic!”

Lucas side eyes Kurt. “Really? You like Beyonce?”

“Of course,” Kurt says, beginning to doubt Lucas’s sanity. “Who doesn’t?”

“Isn’t she a little… pedestrian?”

Kurt blinks. “Well, she’s popular but she’s _powerful_. She knows who she is and she owns it. She doesn’t try and be someone she’s not, just to please people.”

Lucas raises and eyebrow, shoves his hands in his coat pocket. “I suppose, when you put it like that.”

“I think my tenth grade self will always love her,” Kurt muses, kicks at some of the snow on the ground. “She’s part of the reason I came out to my dad.”

“Well then, I shall reevaluate my opinion of her,” Lucas says with a smile, holding the door of the campus center open for Kurt. “Too bad you can’t come to the concert with us.”

“Too bad,” Kurt agrees and decides Lucas is honestly a nice guy.

-

It’s closer to seven by the time Kurt makes it home, exhausted and wanting to curl into bed, but ready to spend the night plowing through his mountain of homework instead. He shuts the door as quietly as he can, surprised to see a light on in the living room, wonders if Rachel got back from rehearsal early.

And then he sees the dark, curly hair peeking over the top of the couch, kicks off his boots and deposits his satchel in a chair.

“Blaine?” he questions softly, moving around to see Blaine half-slumped on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, book open on his lap, eyes closed. His face is smooth and freshly shaved, betraying the boyish roundness to his cheeks, and he looks so much younger, so much more vulnerable, without the protection of his beard. Something warm like a flame lights inside Kurt, spreads through him limbs and pulls a smile onto his lips as he pulls the blanket down to cover Blaine’s bare toes. Blaine sighs and shifts, the book slipping down his lap a little and the moment just seems so _intimate_ that Kurt’s torn between doing something, a brush of skin, a kiss to the forehead, and turning away because he barely knows Blaine and he’s letting his thoughts get ahead of him.

So he heads to the kitchen, throws some leftovers into the microwave, starts up the water boiler, and leans against the counter, the hard corner digging into his back. It shouldn’t seem so right for Blaine to be asleep on his couch, it shouldn’t make his stomach feel warm and his heart roller coaster in his chest. It shouldn’t because he doesn’t know Blaine, not really. But he can’t deny the spark inside him when he hears Blaine’s sleepy groan from the next room, the worry when he coughs.

Opening a cupboard he pauses, pulls out two mugs and two teabags, admires the symmetry of them on the counter together. Maybe someday making two cups of tea will be standard; he’ll hand one off with a kiss, cuddle under a blanket on a cold winter day, a cat curled on his lap, gentle hands around his waist. Preferably someone who’s not Rachel, Kurt thinks with a shake of his head, pulls his food out of the microwave and waits for the water to boil.

A timid “hi.”

Kurt turns, sees Blaine standing in the entrance way. His hair is mussed, his cheeks a little too red, but Kurt’s pleased to see he’s wearing the fresh pajamas he left out, and the mats in his hair seem to have been combed out.

“Hi,’ Kurt greets warmly, motions towards the mug on the counter. “I’m making you some tea, is that okay?”

“Yeah, fine, thank you,” Blaine says, voice filled with honest gratitude even though there’s an uncomfortable shrug in his shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” Kurt asks, drumming his fingers against his thigh.

“Better, I think.” Blaine curls his toes and rocks back on his heels, like he’s nervous and doesn’t know quite what to do. “I can stay conscious at least.”

“That’s a good improvement,” Kurt says with a chuckle because he doesn’t really know what to do either. The potential awkward silence is avoided with the shrill scream of the kettle and Kurt turns his back to Blaine for a moment, pours the steaming water into both of the mugs. He offers one to Blaine, the one without the chip in the handle, and he accepts it, fingers curling around the mug gratefully.

“Do you want to go sit down? You still look tired,” Kurt asks, not wanting to offend Blaine but he’s started swaying on his feet and Kurt doesn’t want him to collapse in their kitchen.

“Okay,” Blaine nods, shuffles back to the couch. Kurt sits at the other end, watches as Blaine hesitantly pulls the blankets back on his lap, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed, now that Kurt’s home.

“I hope you found every-”

“You don’t need-”

Their words overlap and they both stop, Blaine ducking his head  and Kurt laughing. 

“I’m sorry, you go first,” Kurt says, nodding to Blaine. Blaine sets his tea onto the coffee table, smoothes his hands over his knees.

“I was just… you don’t need to do all of this for me.” Blaine winds the blankest between his fingers, realizes what he’s doing and tries to smooth the wrinkles.

“Do what?” Kurt asks even though he knows what Blaine’s getting at but he doesn’t want Blaine to _feel_ this way, like this isn’t something he deserves because he _does_ , he knows he does.

“Do _this_ ,” Blaine motions to the blankets and the tea. “It’s just… it’s too much.”

“You don’t want to be here?”

“No. Yes. I…” Blaine groans and lets his head drop. Kurt can see his shoulders tense like he’s trying to suppress a cough. A moment passes and he looks up at Kurt with those wide eyes, full of unbelieving. “I do, I feel so grateful for what you’ve done for me. I want to… I can’t thank you enough.”

Blaine scoots forward, his hand on Kurt’s knee, squeezing gently.

“You saved my life Kurt, you really did.”

Kurt blushes, lets his hand drift to Blaine’s, slowly, giving him a chance to pull away.

“I only did what any decent human being would do.”

Blaine lets his hand flip palm up, his fingers wrapping around Kurt’s hand, almost hesitantly.

“There aren’t many decent people out there.”

Fingers loosen and Kurt lets his thumb trace down the soft side of Blaine’s hand.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a whisper because he can’t manage anything else, his voice caught behind the lump in his throat.

Blaine shrugs, pulls his hand out from Kurt’s and scoots back to his end of the couch, Kurt’s hand reflexively curling into a fist at the loss.

“It’s just how it is,” Blaine says and pauses to cough. “But I can’t take anything more from you.”

“You’re not taking anything,” Kurt tries to assure, really wants Blaine to understand. Except hazel eyes are on his, pleading, begging him to see, to comprehend what he means, why this is too much.

“I don’t want to be charity,” Blaine says in a whisper, voice catching on the end and Kurt doesn’t know if it’s tiredness that’s making him so emotional or if he really feels this way.

“You’re not charity, I promise.”

Blaine stubs his toe into the carpet and Kurt makes a mental note to bring him some socks, doesn’t know why Blaine didn’t just leave on the pair he gave him yesterday.

“I can’t repay you.” Blaine’s cheeks turn a even deeper pink, and Kurt bites his lip, tries to think of how to put Blaine at ease over such a sensitive subject.

“Look, Blaine,” Kurt starts, inches closer to Blaine and touches his shoulder, trying to draw his attention back up. “I know you didn’t get much say in this whole situation. You were pretty out of it when I brought you back here. I’m really sorry if it’s made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t just leave you out to _die_ , Blaine.”

Kurt takes a breath and Blaine mutters a tiny _thank you_ that cuts right into his heart because he shouldn’t have to thank someone for saving his life like it was a burden, like he can’t believe someone would care about him enough to do so, like he needs to _repay_ Kurt for this.

“Don’t thank me, Blaine. I want to do this for you. I _want_ to. I really want you to stay here, until you’re better. If you have somewhere to go, I understand, but if you don’t, please consider staying here? You have two weeks of antibiotics and I would feel better knowing you had somewhere safe and warm to stay while you get better.”

“Kurt…”

“Please, Blaine. You don’t have to repay us. I mean, if you really feel like you need to I’m sure you could work out some sort of deal with Rachel to do the dishes or dust her trophies or something. You can help me plan color schemes or something, we can find ways.”

Kurt squeezes Blaine’s shoulder, close enough that his knees touch Blaine’s thighs, hopes more than anything that Blaine understands how much this means to him. How it means so much it almost scares him because it doesn’t makes sense for him to care about Blaine so much, but he does. He really does and he just wants Blaine to be safe. Safe and healthy and alive.

“Please, Blaine? Stay?”

Long eyelashes flutter, sweeping his cheeks, and Kurt can’t help but admire the profile of his nose, the way his lips quiver slightly, full and red and no. He’s not thinking like that. Not now.

“Okay. I’ll stay,” Blaine looks up at Kurt and his eyes shine with tears that haven’t fallen, shine with tiredness and an ache for something he doesn’t have and Kurt wants to reach out, to cup Blaine’s face in his hand and tell him he’ll never have to be alone again but he can’t because he doesn’t know. He has nothing to offer Blaine besides a couple weeks with a roof and some meals and a strict regimen of antibiotics. “But I want to help out.”

Kurt smiles, an honest smile, wide enough that his cheeks ache and his teeth show and relief settles deep inside of him. “We can arrange something.”

-

That night Blaine refuses to sleep anywhere but the couch.

Kurt keeps his door open, just a crack.

-

Kurt is angry. He’s angry that his business professor told him he was a source short on his paper (and really, his argument was so compelling he shouldn’t _need_ another source, what different does six versus seven sources make?), he’s angry that the new boots he’d been saving up for for so long gave him blisters, he’s angry that a stupid freshman ran into him on the sidewalk and made him spill his coffee, he’s angry that because he spilled his coffee he was distracted enough to get on the wrong subway. And most of all, he’s angry that Rachel forgot to pay the internet bill when she promised she would, warranting this extra trip to the library in the first place.

So if he stomps through the door and glares at the lady at the desk (who he’s sure is actually a very nice librarian and he should really apologize) it’s not his fault. It’s Rachel’s fault and his professor’s fault, and the stupid freshman’s fault. Spending the rest of his evening in the library had not been on his agenda and he is so stealing the rest of Rachel’s bath salts and the Zumba DVD she keeps blasting at six a.m. when Kurt’s still trying to get his last valuable moments of sleep.

With this plan and a sigh Kurt checks out a laptop from the librarian, making an effort to smile at her to make up for his earlier stomping. She slips him a few Hershey’s kisses with a wink when she hands him the laptop charger and Kurt decides she might actually be the best librarian ever. He takes the laptop and candy to the corner of the library, close enough to the coffee shop that maybe he can absorb some of the caffeine through his skin (he spent the last of his money on the coffee that’s now soaking into the campus sidewalk), and sets up his computer for a long evening of researching, rewriting, and mentally cursing his past self that decided a business minor was a good idea.

-

**Kurt to Rachel [6:32]** _sentenced to a torturous evening in the library because SOMEONE forgot to pay the internet bill_

**Kurt to Rachel [6:32]** _I will be taking your Zumba DVD in payment_

**Kurt to Rachel [6:33]** _Blaine is home alone, please make him take his antibiotic before you go to rehearsal_

**Kurt to Rachel [6:35]** _I am never forgiving you for this_

**Rachel to Kurt [6:47]** _......sorry_

**Rachel to Kurt [6:48]** _can we trade Zumba for the Cats revival bootleg I just scored?_

**Kurt to Rachel [6:50]** _we’ll negotiate. Please check on Blaine_

**Rachel to Kurt [6:51]** _I loooooove you_

**Kurt to Rachel [6:55]** _Don’t talk to me. I’m trying to be mad at you._

**Rachel to Kurt [6:56]** _Oooh sorry_

_-_

It’s nearing nine when Kurt’s eyes start to waver, the computer screen blurring out of focus and he blinks, an ache starting to build between his eyes. He’s almost finished the rewrite of his paper, and has even incorporated in _two_ more sources to show his stuffy old professor that he should never doubt Kurt Hummel’s ability to go above and beyond and turn in anything less than perfect. Only a few more minutes… a few more sentences that need to be reworded and a works cited page that needs to be updated and he’ll be free to go home and god, if Rachel ate the last of the raspberry cheesecake ice cream he might actually kill her…

“Hey there,” a voice breaks through his thoughts and Kurt’s head jerks up, startled. It’s a girl, tall with blonde hair and a teal streak, glasses perched on her nose, an apron wrapped around her waist.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she apologizes. _Ariel_ , Kurt remembers, the girl he’d talked to before about Blaine, who works at the library coffee shop. Right.

“It’s fine, I was just… enthralled,” Kurt says dryly, motioning to his laptop and Ariel gives a small laugh.

“Obviously. I thought you might need this, actually,” she sets a large cup on the table and Kurt can already smell the chocolate and coffee steaming from the lid. “It’s a mocha, I remember you getting one before. You looked like you were about to pass out and I ‘accidentally’ made an extra.” She puts little air quotes around the word _accidentally_ , winking at him.

“Thank you so much,” Kurt wraps his hands around the cup, moaning as he takes a sip. “It’s exactly what I needed.”

“Anything I can do to fuel late night, caffeine driven study sessions,” she says like it’s no big deal and Kurt seriously wants to hug her and ask her to be his roommate instead of Rachel, but he manages to restrain himself by taking another swig.

“You truly understand a college students search to replace all the blood in their caffeine system,” Kurt muses, already beginning to feel refreshed. At least enough to power through the last page of his paper. “Really, thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” Ariel says and he hesitates, rocking back slightly on her feet before leaning forward again. “I wanted to ask you something too, if you don’t mind.”

Kurt tilts his head in curiosity, wondering why she looks suddenly… nervous.

“I remember you asking about Blaine awhile ago and it’s just… I haven’t seen him around in awhile and the last time I saw him he looked really… not good and I guess I’m just worried about him. So I guess I was just wondering if you know where he is?” Ariel trails off after the question, her hand nervously rubbing at her neck.

“Oh,” Kurt says, chewing at the inside of his cheek, wondering how much to say. How much Blaine would want him to say. Ariel had seemed fond of Blaine the first time they’d met, she’d smiled when they talked and made him a free drink and Blaine wrote her songs so Kurt figures he wouldn’t mind her knowing. “He’s with me. Living with me I mean. For now.”

“Oh,” Ariel echoes, obviously surprised. “Oh wow. That’s great though. I’m glad. That he has a place to go.”

“He’s been sick and my roommate’s taken a liking to him so we’re watching out for him, until he gets better. Then I suppose we’ll have to figure something out.”

Ariel nods, face thoughtful. “That’s just… that’s so great. I’ve been thinking about him and I was really worried because I know he most people haven’t been to nice to him-”

“Who couldn’t be nice to Blaine?” Kurt asks, honestly confused. Blaine who always smiles, who sings songs for people and sleeps tucked away in libraries. Who could possibly want to be mean to him?

“I don’t know,” Ariel says with a shrug. “You can just tell, the rest of the, well, homeless community. They think Blaine’s… uppity or something. That he tries too hard to be nice. I’ve seen them shoving him around and stuff. Blaine’s not made for this sort of life, you can tell.”

Kurt’s silent, Ariel’s words forming a heavy pit in his stomach. He doesn’t like the thought of Blaine being pushed around or looked down on. Blaine is so… so _much_ , he has so much genuine kindness in him, Kurt knows, has seen it, and the thought of others not liking him because of this makes him feel sad in a way he hasn’t felt yet.

He hadn’t really thought of how alone Blaine might be. He’d mentioned a brother once, but otherwise Kurt knows nothing about anyone Blaine might be connected with. Nothing about a family or a girlfriend or any friends, and the fact that he was almost frozen to death on the street last week doesn’t give Kurt a good feeling about any of these things. He can’t imagine what it would be like, not to have his family or his friends, even Rachel, as annoying as she might be. To not have anyone who would care if you were outside on a cold night, to not have a stepmother who sends you brownies when she’s worried you’re not eating enough, or a father who calls if he hasn’t heard from you in a week. He can’t imagine having _nobody_.

“He’s got us,” Kurt says out loud, looking back up at Ariel. “Rachel and I will make sure he’s okay, don’t worry.”

Ariel smiles and touches his shoulder lightly. “I need to go close now, but tell Blaine that when he’s feeling better he can have a hazelnut latte on me, okay?”

“I’ll tell him,” Kurt says and he will. And he’ll tell Blaine other things, and he’ll ask Blaine things because Blaine deserves to have a friend. And Kurt wants more than anything to be that for him. “Thanks Ariel. For the coffee.”

Ariel nods at him and turns, skips back to the tiny coffee shop. Kurt sips at his coffee and turns back to the computer, determined to finish and go back home. A Zumba DVD needs confiscating and a boy needs comforting.   
  



	5. Chapter 5

 

_Dear Blaine,_

_Since Kurt informed that you wish to repay us for our unending hospitality (though I can assure you no payment is required) I have put together a list of suggestions._  
     ·     _washing dishes_  
     ·     _vacuuming_  
     ·     _dusting the shelves/trophies/books_  
     ·     _disorganize Kurt’s DVDs in the name of Zumba_  
     ·     _oil the door hinge so Kurt will finally get off my back about it_

_You are the best! Remember to stay inside because it’s supposed to be cold today and you need to get better! I made you more soup so eat up! <33 Rachel _

**_Rachel I can’t believe you left Blaine a to-do list. Blaine, you don’t have to do anything on the list if you don’t want to. Just rest up and feel better. (Rachel, we’ll be talking about this later)_ **

-

Wednesday is infinitely better than Tuesday; Kurt’s professor accepted his revised paper with a curt nod (which for Dr. Gruber was like a hug and a pat on a bag) and his costume designs were approved for the final production of _Into the Woods_. Even Burt called to congratulate him when he’d texted the news, and talking to his father always brightens his day. He even asked about Blaine without sounding angry or disapproving and told him Carole wanted to talk to him later about some tips she uses with pneumonia patients.

And to top it off, Kurt’s last class was canceled, leaving him with an entire afternoon free, something that very rarely seems to happen. So he catches the subway home with a lighter step, even stops at the bakery a block from their apartment and picks up three strawberry tarts, hums when he takes the stairs up to the apartment. The bag crinkles in his fingers as he fumbles for his key, the door creaking open before he can extract it from his pocket, a mess of curls peeking out.

“Hey,” Blaine greets, opening the door all the way for Kurt with a smile. He looks better today, Kurt notes, his cheeks still a little peaked but he’s smiling and standing upright without wavering, which is a first.

“Hi,” Kurt responds, slinking past him through the doorway and tossing his stuff onto the kitchen counter. “I brought treats.”

He pulls a tart from the bag and offers it to Blaine, who accepts it hesitantly, holding it gingerly in his fingers. Kurt smiles before shrugging of his jacket and hanging it on the entryway hook that only he ever seems to use, and pulling off his boots, breathing a sigh of relief as he flexes his toes. He really needs to invest in some blister Band-Aids if he’s determined on breaking these in.

When he turns back, Blaine is nibbling on the tart, his cheeks immediately flushing when he sees Kurt watching and he lowers it, a few crumbs still sticking to his lips. Kurt laughs and grabs his own from the bag, perching himself onto the bar stool.

“You can eat it,” he encourages, reaching across the counter to pull off a few paper towels, handing one to Blaine. “I mean, if you’re not hungry you can save it for later or something. There’s one in here for Rachel too.”

Blaine sets the tart neatly on the paper towel, takes a seat on the barstool beside Kurt.

“Thank you,” Blaine says earnestly, picking at the crust with his finger and looking at Kurt earnestly. “You didn’t have to get me one.”

And Kurt shrugs before taking the biggest bite of tart that he can manage because he doesn’t want Blaine to turn this into a big deal because it’s _not_ a big deal. It’s just a tart, he buys them for friends all the time because everyone deserves to have sweets every once in a while. Blaine doesn’t say anything else, just offers Kurt a tiny smile before picking back up his tart and taking a bite.

It’s now that Kurt notices the dishes in the drying rack, the spotless kitchen floor, the blankets that have been straightened in the living room, the vacuum tucked into the corner, the books in neat piles on the coffee table.

“You cleaned,” Kurt remarks, surprised. “You shouldn’t have, you need to rest and get better.”

Blaine shrugs, quickly swallows a mouthful of tart. “I am feeling better and I wanted to help out, somehow.”

Kurt nods slowly, considers Blaine’s earnest face, the way he’s tapping his knee in a minute gesture of nervousness.

“Well, thank you,” Kurt says, touching Blaine’s shoulder lightly. “But don’t feel like you have to, even if Rachel leaves those lists. She’ll do anything to get out of her share of cleaning.”

“I’m happy to help,” Blaine says to his tart and Kurt doesn’t really know how to respond, settles on eating the rest of his dessert. Silence settles over them, awkward and heavy and Kurt knows he wants to talk to Blaine, wants to know about his life and what he likes and what pisses him off but he doesn’t know _how._

“Um, so, how are you feeling?” Kurt ventures to break the silence, glances over at Blaine.

“Good. Better,” Blaine answers, drumming his fingers on the counter.

“We already established that, didn’t we,” Kurt states and a smile pulls at the corner of Blaine’s lips.

“Yeah, I think so.” He laughs and looks over at Kurt, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before flickering down. “How are _you_?”

“I’m swell. Splendid. Spectacular,” Kurt says and actually giggles because this is sort of ridiculous, having idle conversation with a boy who’s been living in their apartment for days but might as well be a stranger. “My last class was canceled, that always puts me in a good mood,” he offers by way of explanation and Blaine smiles, warm and genuine.

“What are you going to do with your freedom?” Blaine asks and Kurt leans his elbows back against the counter, considers the ceiling.

“Hmm, that is a good question. Perhaps a movie marathon, work on some homework, pillage a few villages.”

Blaine laughs easily, the tension lessening in his shoulders, his fingers stalling in their nervous drumming.

“Care to join?” Kurt asks, nodding his head towards the living room. Blaine dips his head in a nod, his lips forming a silent _yes_ , and he looks so incredibly endearing that Kurt has to stick his hands in his pockets to stop himself from taking Blaine’s and pulling him in close.

Instead he just lets Blaine follow him to the living room where he sits awkwardly on the very end of the couch while Kurt crouches in front of his DVDs (which, he’s happy to note, are still organized alphabetically).

“Have any opinions?” Kurt looks over at Blaine, unsure what he would like. Blaine shifts, shrugs his shoulders.

“Whatever is fine,” Blaine says and Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“If you let me pick we’re going to spend the day criticizing the Kardashian’s,” Kurt says, a teasing note in his voice, the awkward tension that’s filled the apartment the past few days beginning to evaporate, and for a minute Kurt can imagine that Blaine just is a friend, staying over for the afternoon.

“Um, well, I saw you had Planet Earth?” Blaine’s voice is soft, like he’s afraid of being criticized or shot down. “I’ve always want to see that.”

“Oh!” Kurt turns back to the DVDs, runs his fingers along the edges until he finds it. “Carole, my stepmom, gave it to me for Christmas a few years ago and I’ve never really gotten around to watching it.”

“We don’t have-”

“No, it’s good,” Kurt interrupts because all he wants is to see the smile back on Blaine’s face and if Blaine wanted to watch a documentary on childbirth he’d agree without a pause. “I want to watch it.”

Blaine looks like he wants to protest more but he stays quiet, his hands under his knees and Kurt hopes he’s not making Blaine uncomfortable, that he’s forcing Blaine to do things he doesn’t want to do.

“You can sleep or do whatever you want too,” Kurt says, pausing as he puts in the first disk of the series. “You don’t have to watch.”

“I’d like to,” Blaine gives him a small, reassuring smile that turns into a comically wide yawn. “Though I might fall asleep.”

“Totally fine,” Kurt assures, popping in the disk and settling on the other side of the couch.

Blaine falls asleep by the third episode and Kurt tucks a blanket over him, hopes he doesn’t get a kink in his neck from the awkward way it’s resting on his shoulder. He lowers the volume on the TV slightly, grabs his sketchbook and starts doodling out some designs, a sense of calm lulling over him.

Rachel comes home a few hours later, Kurt lifting a finger to his lips in an effort to keep her quiet because he knows that’s difficult for her even on the best of days. Blaine mumbles something in his sleep and Rachel makes a cooing face over him until Kurt bats her away, despite the warm feeling growing in his stomach with just how much Rachel likes Blaine.

But then Rachel’s back, in the cute emerald green dress Kurt had picked out for her, keeps waving for his attention despite Kurt’s best attempts to ignore her and he turns around, sending her what he hopes is a warning look. _I have a date_ she mouths, her eyes wide enough that Kurt can see the twenty-seven exclamation points she would have added if she were texting him the news.

_With who?_ Kurt mouths back and he supposes he could just get up and talk to Rachel but he really is comfortable and it’s amusing to watch Rachel keep visibly reminding herself to be quiet. She mouths back something that he thinks sums up to her cute duet partner so he flashes her a thumbs up and mouths _good luck_ and she squeals a little before slapping a hand over her mouth and scurrying quickly away.

Kurt shakes his head and goes back to his sketching. He really does hope her date goes well, between the debacle with Finn and the messy friends-with-benefits situation she’d gotten herself into last year, Rachel deserves to find someone who can truly appreciate everything she is. The hugeness of her and her talent, wrapped up in her tiny, excitable body.

He would like that too, maybe. Someday.

-

Blaine stirs awake close to six, his eyes blinking open, brow furrowing with confusion as he takes in the golden light of the just-setting sun streaming in through the window.

“-diflsleep?” he mumbles and Kurt has to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Blaine lifts his head and Kurt can hear his neck crack from being in one position for so long, blinks blearily at the TV screen before letting his head fall back against the couch. “I missed the zebras.” His lip sticks out in a pout and Kurt can’t contain the chuckle that breaks free, wonders if it’s possible for Blaine to look any more adorable than he looks now.

“You’ve been asleep for awhile,” Kurt informs him, voice soft because Blaine still looks like he’s trying to process everything.

“Sorry,” Blaine murmurs, his yawn broken by a cough and Kurt’s reminded all to abruptly of why Blaine is actually here.

“Don’t be,” Kurt says when Blaine’s done, reaches across to brush some white lint out of Blaine’s hair, his heart jumping at the way Blaine’s eyes flutter closed at the contact. He pulls his hand away, the lint still in Blaine’s hair, tucks them in between his knees.

“Um,” Kurt starts, swallows thickly. “Do you want some dinner? I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.”

“That would be great,” Blaine nods, voice still a little rough with sleep and Kurt figures he’ll have a little more time to wake up while he makes them some dinner.

So Kurt cooks and Blaine restarts the episode about zebras, watching with a fascination Kurt doesn’t really get because _zebras?_ He gets his answer when he brings Blaine a sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup, settling down beside him on the couch with his own.

“I feel bad for zebras,” Blaine says, picking the top of the crust off his sandwich. “The only thing anyone cares about is their stripes.”

Normally Kurt would remark about how zebra print went out of fashion just over a year ago so no one cares about their stripes anymore, but the serious way Blaine’s looking down at his food makes him stop.

“People only see what’s on the outside,” Blaine continues, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head like he’s trying to rid himself of these thoughts.

“I bet there’s a lot more about zebras than most people know,” Kurt muses, trying to offer Blaine a reassuring smile. Blaine just takes a bit of his sandwich, his eyes troubled.

“Tell me something about yourself?” Kurt asks after a moment of eating in silence. “If you want to, I mean. I don’t really know anything about you.”

“Oh, um,” Blaine pauses, surprised, stirs his soup contemplative. “What do you want to know?”

Kurt shrugs. “Anything. Whatever you want to tell. What’s your favorite color or what do you like to do or what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream? Mine is blueberry cheesecake.”

Blaine blinks. “You don’t want to know why I’m, you know, homeless?”

He’s recoiled in on himself, his fingers tapping nervously and Kurt feels his heart ache.

“I’m curious but I only want you to tell me what you’re comfortable with,” Kurt says slowly, wanting Blaine to understand how much he means it. “And I want to know more about you, not just where you live.”

Blaine smiles at that, looks at Kurt honestly, opens his mouth like he wants to say something before closing it with the tiniest shake of his head. “Well, my favorite color is red, I like to read and write music, and my favorite flavor of ice cream is probably cookie dough.”

“I heard that you like to serenade baristas with songs,” Kurt teases lightly and Blaine blushes.

“You met Ariel then?”

Kurt nods. “She wanted me to tell you there’s a free coffee waiting for you whenever you want. She was worried about you.”

“Really?” Blaine asks, like he can’t imagine that anyone could possibly be worried about him.

“Yeah, she was. When you’re feeling up to it I think she’d like you to go say hi.” Kurt pauses, realizes something. “You didn’t have your guitar, when I found you.’

“Oh, yeah, I sold it,” Blaine says like it’s no big deal but Kurt can see the way his jaw tightens.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says softly, realizes how bad off Blaine must have been to have sold something that means so much to him.

“It happens.”

Kurt stares at his knees for a moment.

“I don’t know if you can play piano, but I have a keyboard you can use. If you want.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Blaine asks suddenly, eyes widening like he can’t believe he just blurted that. “I just mean, I’m having trouble believing any of this is real.”

“Because, I feel like we could be friends,” Kurt answers, touches Blaine’s shoulder. “And friends help out each other.”

Blaine looks a little bewildered, eyes flickering down to the hand on his shoulder, before a tiny smile pulls at his lips. “I would like that. To be friends.”

“Good,” Kurt says because Blaine deserves a million friends, and he deserves people who love him and care about him and do nice things for him without him having to ask _why_. “Now, as a friend, would you care to help me with a project?”

-

Blaine doesn’t complain when Kurt asks if he would try on the scrubs he’s been making for his Functional class; he has to make a set for both genders and he still has a bit of tweaking to do before he’s ready to turn them in. The deep navy fabric brings out the undertones of Blaine’s skin, contrasts nicely with his dark hair. The pants are a little long and the top a little baggy but Blaine doesn’t say anything, just stands still as he lets Kurt consider them.

“You’re a good model,” Kurt remarks, putting his hands on Blaine’s shoulders to have him twist slightly, watching how the fabric moves and stretches. “Much better than Rachel.”

He has Blaine put his own clothes back on and settles down to make a few alterations, Blaine watching him curiously.

“My mom was a nurse.” The words are quiet, little and reserved. Kurt looks up from his sewing, sees Blaine staring at the scrubs, his lips a thin line.

“She’s not anymore?” Kurt ventures to ask, keeps his eyes on what he’s doing because he doesn’t want to seem like he’s prying but this is the most Blaine’s offered since that day Kurt took him to lunch.

“No, she’s dead,” he says flatly and Kurt does glance up now, catches Blaine’s eye for a brief moment.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt whispers because he understands what it’s like to lose a parent, knows the aching hole it leaves in your chest, like a part of you has been punched out. “My mom died too, when I was eight.”

Blaine looks at him for a minute, eyes sad. “I was fifteen.” He picks at some lint in the couch. “Both my parents died.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kurt says even though he hates it when people say that to him, because why are they sorry? It’s not their fault, there’s nothing they could have done to change the past. But he doesn’t know what else to say, what else do you say? Blaine is staring hard at the floor, the lines tight around his mouth and Kurt doesn’t want him to close up, doesn’t want him to think he can’t tell things to Kurt.

“I was so broken up after losing my mom, I can’t imagine losing my dad too.” A lump tightens in Kurt’s throat at the thought, just imagining what Blaine must have gone through.

“How did your mom die?” Blaine asks after a moment, eyes searching Kurt’s face desperately.

“She got sick. Cancer,” Kurt says, the same thing he tells everyone but it feels different this time because Blaine actually understands what it’s like to lose someone you love.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt,” Blaine reaches out like he’s going to take Kurt’s hand before pulling back. “Mine died in a car accident, a week before my birthday. I was in the backseat and only ended up with a broken arm.”

Blaine gives a humorless laugh but doesn’t say anything else, just picks at the hem of his shirt.

“Blaine… I…” Kurt fumbles for the right words, more than anything wants to just pull Blaine into his arms and make everything okay for him again.

“It’s okay, there’s not much to say,” Blaine says softly, offers Kurt a weak smile that he supposes is supposed to be comforting.

Kurt bites his lip, hesitates. “Can I ask, about your situation? You don’t have-”

“Kurt, it’s okay, you can ask me things,” Blaine assures, glancing back up at Kurt. “I don’t mind.”

Kurt swallows, sucks in a deep breath. “Have you been ho… on your own since your parents died?”

“You can just say homeless, it’s fine,” Blaine says and Kurt looks away, feels an embarrassed flush creeping into his cheeks, whispers an apology before Blaine lightly touches his leg.

“I lived with my brother after they died, but he moved back to Ohio a few years ago so I stayed here. I think he’s in LA now though.”

“You’re from Ohio?” Kurt asks, and Blaine nods, looks at him questioningly. “I’m from Lima. Ohio, not Peru.”

“Westerville,” Blaine says and they both stare at each other for a moment before looking away and laughing.

“I can understand why you wouldn’t want to move back,” Kurt muses, giving Blaine what he hopes is an understanding look.

“I lived with my boyfriend for awhile but things got… rough so I left. I’ve only been homeless few months.”

Kurt stares.

_Oh._

“You’re gay.”

Blaine blinks, looks slightly taken aback. “Yeah. Um, is that a problem?”

“What? No, no, of course not,” Kurt says quickly, feels his cheeks start to burn. “I just didn’t know. I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Blaine reassures but his words are a little forced, his posture more stiff.

“I am, too. Gay, I mean.” He can feel the flush in his face, would be surprised if he didn’t look like a tomato and he bounces his knee nervously, clutches the scrubs in his hand a little tighter.

“Something tells me that might be why you’re not overly fond of Ohio,” Blaine says softly, voice full of something Kurt recognizes. It’s the same tone he uses when he talks about Ohio, about his past and the bullying and how he just needed to _get away_.

“Bingo,” Kurt looks back up at Blaine and sees the way his brow has furrowed, like he’s concerned, which Kurt thinks is ridiculous. “But now I have New York. Ohio is in the past. Better and brighter, right?”

“Right,” Blaine echoes, but he doesn’t sound like he means it. Kurt bites his lip, contemplating.

“If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

Blaine blinks.

“What?”

“I’m asking you questions. I wasn’t done with our game.”

“It was a game?” Blaine looks slightly confused but he chuckles.

“It is now,” Kurt answers, nudging Blaine’s knee with his foot. Blaine nudges back before narrowing his eyes in thought.

“Lemon bars,” Blaine decides after a moment, with a smile. “I could eat lemon bars forever. What about you?”

“Zebra,” Kurt says immediately, winking at Blaine. “I’ve heard they’re more delicious on the inside.”

Blaine stares at Kurt before laughing, his whole face scrunching with it and Kurt can’t help but laugh along, something warm sparking inside.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

The rest of the week passes by in a blur of coffee and fabric and Blaine cuddled under blankets on the couch. Kurt eats lunch with Lucas and stays late to finish his costume designs, works on his business homework at the kitchen table, listening as Rachel rambles on and on to Blaine about her new boyfriend (his name is Josh and he’s a six foot tall junior with braces and a habit of quoting Shakespeare in the middle of conversation that Kurt finds unnerving but he’s good to Rachel and that’s what matters). Blaine doesn’t seem to mind, listening attentively as asking questions that keep Rachel preening and talking for hours. He think Blaine likes it actually, talking to Rachel, if the smile on his face and the light in his eyes are anything to go by.

That weekend Kurt has Blaine put on his old clothes, freshly washed and looking better than they did when he brought Blaine home, but still on the raggedy side. It’s the first time Blaine’s left the apartment in over a week and he’s been coughing less and staying awake for longer so Kurt figures some fresh air will do him good. They chat, about music and Ohio and early winters, while Kurt picks out ingredients at the grocery store, Blaine narrowing his eyes at the items, but not remarking on them.

When they get back home, Kurt makes lemon bars.

-

A tentative knock.

“Kurt?”

Kurt rolls over, throws the pillow off his head.

“Whozit?”

The knock comes again, the click of the handle and the door opens enough for a curly head to peak in.

“Blaine?” Kurt mumbles, confused. “Wha-?”

Blaine steps into the room, cautiously, like he’s not sure he’s allowed, holds out his hand.

“You, um, left your phone in the living room?” Blaine says and Kurt can see it now, the phone cupped in his hand, delicately. “The alarm has been going off and I don’t want you to oversleep.”

Kurt groans and lets his head flop back onto the pillow, the fog in his head slowly lifting as consciousness returns.

“Thanks,” he says, tries to shoot Blaine a smile but he really just wants to roll over and go back to sleep. Blaine hesitates, takes a slow step forward, face nervous.

“I’ll just…” Blaine sets the phone on Kurt’s bedside table, steps back. “Sorry to wake you.”

“No, no,” Kurt says quickly, forcing himself to sit up and rubs his eyes. “Thank you. I would’ve been late.”

Blaine pauses, gives a short nod before leaving, closing the door quietly behind him. Kurt yawns, looks at his phone, remembers the way Blaine’s fingers had so delicately curled around it, and smiles.

He’s twenty minutes late into his morning routine so he shortens his shower, simplifies his hair, and forgoes a couple belts for his outfit. Blaine’s sitting on the couch when he emerges, knees pulled up to his chest, watching as he wiggles his toes. Another smile pulls at Kurt and he hesitates in the entrance to the kitchen, weighing his options. Ironically, he now has a few extra minutes because of the condensed version of his morning routine and he’s determined to put them to good use.

“Hey, Blaine?” Kurt starts and Blaine’s head snaps up, like Kurt surprised him. “Want to get breakfast with me? If you’re feeling up to it? I have a few minutes, I’ll buy you coffee. There’s a little café down the street.”

Blaine pauses, his eyes searching Kurt’s face and he looks like he’s about to decline before he lets himself smile, slightly.

“That would be great.”

“Awesome,” Kurt says, can’t help the tiny excited hop he gives. Blaine stands, cracks his back, the hem of his sweatshirt riding up to expose a sliver of tummy and Kurt stares before looking down at his feet, swallowing.

“Just let me put on my shoes,” Blaine’s voice draws Kurt’s attention back up and he hopes his cheeks aren’t too red, because this is ridiculous, he’s already seen Blaine practically naked. And Blaine’s just a friend, just a _friend_ and he shouldn’t be…

“Kurt?”

A blink. Blaine’s staring at him, face concerned.

“Sorry,” Kurt apologizes, and if he wasn’t blushing before he certainly is now. “I’m worthless before my morning coffee.”

“Then we’d better go see about getting some,” Blaine says, bumping his shoulder into Kurt’s and Kurt realizes that over the past few days they’ve gotten to this point, this point where they’re okay with these friendly bumps and touches, even if they’re a little reserved, followed by red flushed cheeks.

 Blaine shrugs into the jacket that Kurt’s determined to patch up over break, pulls his shoes onto his feet, holds the door open for Kurt.

“After you,” he says, motioning to the door and Kurt grabs his satchel, tries not to think about the last time someone held the door open for him, even if it is playfully. Kurt ducks his head and steps through the door, about to say something when he stops short, breath catching in his throat.

“I’m so sorry,” the apology rushes from Kurt’s lips, his hands immediately reaching to steady the woman he nearly ran over. It’s Ethel, the cute old lady who lives a few doors down, always dressed in draping shawls and her hair dyed an interesting shade of purple. “Are you okay?”

Ethel smiles up at him. “Just fine, you’re too scrawny to do any real damage anyways.” Her eyes give him a once over and Kurt shifts, has heard Ethel’s opinions on his eating habits more than once before. “I was just coming to find you, actually.”

She pauses, glancing behind Kurt at Blaine who has closed the door, watching the interaction with silent amusement.

“Who is this young man?”

“Oh,” Kurt turns to look at Blaine, back at Ethel, mind racing. “This is Blaine, he’s a friend who’s staying with us. For the holiday.”

Kurt looks back at Blaine. “Blaine, this is Ethel. She lives down the hall from us.”

Ethel considers Blaine carefully.

“It’s nice to meet you ma’am,” Blaine says cordially, nodding his head at her.

“Well, I’m not sure what that jacket is about, but you look like a strong young man,” she says and Blaine glances at Kurt, who just shrugs.

“Kurt dear, I was hoping you could offer a hand. I just ordered in some new shelves and I need some help putting them up.” She looks at Kurt expectantly. “I’ll pay you with that zucchini bread you love so much.”

“Actually I have class today, Ethel. I could come by sometime tomorrow evening?” Kurt says, honestly apologetic because her zucchini bread really is too die for.

“I’m free,” Blaine’s voice chimes from behind him, looking between the two of them. His face is a mix of nerves and sudden excitement and Kurt raises an eyebrow at him questioningly. “After breakfast, I could come help you if you need.”

Ethel squints her eyes at Blaine, as if appraising him. “That would be lovely, if you would.”

Kurt wants to ask Blaine if he’s sure, if he’s feeling well enough, but he stops because Blaine looks so _happy_ to have something to do, like he’s wanted nothing more than to help Ethel put up her shelves.

“Of course, I’d love to help,” Blaine says with a charming smile and Kurt feels his own heart melt a little bit. The tiny smile and the way her eyes flicker over Blaine once more says that she feels the same.

Kurt holds the door to her apartment open for Ethel when they make their way down the hall, and he’s pretty sure that was her hand that just brushed over his ass.

-

It’s a perilous thing, carrying coffee in both hands, dodging children and chairs and teenagers with headphones, but Kurt manages with minimal spillage, sets the coffees on the table where Blaine is watching with amusement.

“You make it look like an art,” Blaine remarks as Kurt scoots his chair in, unwinds the scarf from around his neck. At Kurt’s questioning look Blaine says, “carrying coffee I mean. You’re very graceful.”

He immediately focuses in on his coffee, red creeping into his cheeks and Kurt can’t quite stifle his chuckle. Blaine busies himself by stirring the cream into his coffee, lifts it to his lips to take a small sip, smiling in that satisfying way that morning coffee makes you feel.

“Thank you,” Blaine says in the earnest way he does, that makes Kurt feel like he’s done something more spectacular than simply buying him a coffee. “I’ll pay you back, for all of this, I promise.”

Kurt watches Blaine, the way his eyes are so serious, his fingers tightening just slightly around his mug, can see how much this means to him.

“You don’t have too,” Kurt tries to assure, reaches across the table to touch his hand to Blaine’s, drawing it back quickly. “I don’t mind, honestly. I made a lot of money over the summer, it’s good to use it on someone who deserves it.”

“I don’t know that I do,” Blaine says, the words not much more than a whisper, staring into his coffee.

“You do, Blaine,” Kurt reaches for Blaine’s hand, actually grabs it this time, squeezes tight because Blaine needs to know, needs to understand how much he _does_ deserve this. If anyone deserves this, coffee and lemon bars and second chances, it’s Blaine. “You deserve all of this.”

Blaine squeezes back, just slightly, keeps staring into his coffee. He looks better, Kurt realizes, than the last time they sat in a café together. His skin is brighter, his hair shiny and vibrant, his clothes lacking the grime they once had. He looks _good_ , Kurt realizes, attractive, and he’s suddenly struck by the urge to run his fingers through his hair, to tangle them in the curls and pull him in close and-

_stop_

Kurt lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, tries to clear his thoughts. That’s not what Blaine needs right now. What Blaine needs is a friend who is actually there for him, a friend to support and encourage him, to help him realize that he is worth _everything_. When he opens his eyes, Blaine is looking at him, quickly averts his gaze, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. He clears his throat, looks like he’s about to say something, his brow furrowing.

“Hey, Kurt,” a voice comes from behind instead, a hand clasping Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt starts, surprised. He pulls away from Blaine, their fingers finally untangling and he turns, sees Lucas, a smile on his face and a coffee in hand.

“Oh, Lucas, hi,” Kurt says and he knows he sounds a bit breathless, but his morning coffee hasn’t kicked in enough for him to properly deal with the range of emotions he’s experienced this early. Blaine is looking at him curiously, and Kurt swallows, tries to gather his thoughts because Kurt Hummel does _not_ get flustered.

“Lucas this is Blaine, he’s a… friend,” Kurt introduces, tries to smile despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t like this, Lucas and Blaine in the same room, like two parts of his life that were never supposed to mix, oil and water.

“The emergency?” Lucas asks, raising his eyebrow. Kurt swallows, can’t make himself look at Blaine.

“Um, yeah,” he answers, standing suddenly. “Class is starting soon, we should-”

He nods towards the door, sends Blaine what he hopes is an apologetic look.

“Have a good day,” Blaine says, shifting in his seat. Kurt wants to stay, wants to sit back down and take Blaine’s hand and drink coffee with him all morning, wants to see if he can get the smile back on Blaine’s face, wants to watch his eyes crinkle as he laughs. But he can’t, he has class, class with _Lucas_ , and he has to go, he has no choice.

So instead he fumbles in his pocket, pulls out the key, the metal cool in his fingers.

“Here,” Kurt offers Blaine the key, presses it into his palm. “So you can get back in.”

He hesitates, their fingers grazing when he pulls away before he offers Blaine one last smile, turns, and follows Lucas out of the coffee shop.

-

When Kurt gets home that evening Blaine is curled up on the couch, a book in his lap and a mug of tea beside him. He doesn’t look up when Kurt walks by, just idly turns the page and Kurt bites his lip, heads to his room. Changing into some sweats and his bedtime t-shirt, Kurt makes his way back to the living room, hesitates before sitting on the couch beside Blaine.

“Watcha reading?” Kurt asks, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over his shoulders.

“Paradise Lost,” Blaine murmurs, putting his thumb against the page like a bookmark and closing it so Kurt can see the cover.

“Wow, heavy.”

Blaine shrugs. “I don’t mind. I like to read.”

“I took Brit Lit one semester,” Kurt says, offhandedly, reaching over to touch the cover of the book. “To fill some general requirements. I think my professor had a literary boner for Milton.”

That earns him a half-smile, a quick glance.

“I borrowed it off your shelf, I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Kurt nods. “Feel free. I keep buying books and never actually getting around to reading them, so it’s good that someone wants to.”

He hesitates. “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly this morning, I was just… caught off guard.”

Blaine looks up at him, eyes unreadable. “I understand. I don’t mind.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, you know,” the words tumble off Kurt’s lips before he can stop them, and his fingers dig into the soft down of the blanket. “Lucas, I mean.”

A hand on his shoulder, breath catching in his throat. “It’s okay, Kurt. You don’t have to explain.”

Blaine’s thumb massages a light circle and Kurt laughs shakily, has no idea what his emotions are doing right now.

“I feel…” he starts, stops, shakes his head. “Did you go to see Ethel today?”

Blaine smiles, gives Kurt’s shoulder one last squeeze before drawing his hands back into his lap.

“Yeah, I helped her put up her shelves. She’s, um, interesting.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Kurt agrees, letting his head fall back against the couch.

“She called you a stud and asked me if I was a punk rocker,” Blaine says and Kurt laughs, the corners of Blaine’s eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“She wants me to come back tomorrow, something about moving her bookshelf.”

“That’s Ethel,” Kurt says with a chuckle. “You’ll never get away now.”

“Oh,” Blaine starts suddenly, pulls something out of his pocket. “Here.”

It’s a twenty dollar bill, crisp with only a slight crease down the middle, and Kurt frowns, confused.

“Ethel gave it to me for helping her. There’s also zucchini bread on the counter but,” Blaine shrugs, “I wanted to give this to you. To start paying you back for everything.”

“Blaine…” Kurt presses the bill back into Blaine’s hand. “ Keep it. You earned it.”

“Kurt, I want to pay you back. You’ve done so much for me-”

“-and I’m happy to do it. You don’t need to pay me back for anything. Really.”

Blaine’s nose scrunches, his lips forming a thin line in distress.

“Kurt,” Blaine starts, and Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“ _Blaine_ ,” he counters, voice teasing and Blaine crosses his arms, the twenty crumpling in his hands.

“You should spend that on something you need,” Kurt insists, an idea sparking in his mind. “How about we use that to get you some new clothes over Thanksgiving break?”

Blaine looks down, opens his hand to gaze at the crumpled twenty.

“The weather is only going to get colder,” Kurt says softly, eyes traveling over Blaine’s face. “You deserve some warmer clothes.”

A pause.

“Alright. New clothes.”

Kurt bounces a little in his seat, excited. “I know of some great thrift stores, super cheap with quality clothes. It’ll be fun!”

And Blaine smiles, really _smiles_ , folds the twenty into neat squares before putting it back into his pocket.

“I can’t wait.”

-

That night Lucas texts Kurt.

He forgets to text back.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Thanksgiving break comes with a warm front, melting the stubborn remaining snow and sending everyone back outside. Kurt wakes up early on Thursday, the sun streaming through the cracks in the blinds, bathing the room with golden light. He lays in bed for a minute, a smile on his face, his mind filled with the endless possibilities for today.

He makes a list in his head:  
     1.  Make breakfast (waffles, or maybe pancakes. Yes, pancakes)  
     2.  Tune into the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on one of their three channels  
     3.  Divide up cooking duties with Rachel  
     4.  Take Blaine shopping (subdivided further into a. creating the perfect color palate to compliment Blaine’s skin tone, b. buying Blaine more coffee because he loves the way Blaine smiles when he sips good coffee, c. getting Blaine out of his clothes, and d. getting Blaine back into the tightest clothes he can manage) (Kurt blushes as he thinks this, bites his lip and forces himself to move further down the list).  
     5.  Cook a fabulous tofurkey dinner  
     6.  Drink wine and watch the Shark Week DVDs Blaine convinced him to rent

Kurt allows himself a moment to bury his face in the pillow, kicks his feet a little, before rolling himself out of bed. Today is a holiday, therefore it’s one of the few days of the year where it’s acceptable for him to wear pajamas passed nine a.m. so he just takes a brief moment to straighten out his hair and brush his teeth before padding out to the living room in his slippers. Blaine is still asleep, curled under a pile of blankets.

It’s surprising how used to this Kurt is, to waking up and seeing Blaine, asleep on their couch. Like he’s always been there. Like he’s been in Kurt’s life longer than just a week and a half. Like he’s meant to be here.

Kurt smiles again, makes his way into the kitchen, a plan forming in his mind. He hums as he cooks, mixing egg substitute and flour and butter, twirls as he waits for the pancakes to brown. He starts a second pan of veggie sausages, gets a pot of coffee started, texts an enthusiastic _happy thanksgiving!!_ to his father. Rachel shows up at some point, steps into the kitchen and practically melts at the smell of coffee and pancakes, gives Kurt an appreciative kiss on the cheek.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Rachel moans as she pours herself a cup of coffee, perches on top of a stool, careful to keep her voice low so as not to wake Blaine.

“Not nearly enough,” Kurt replies, kissing her cheek back. “You look cute this morning.”

And she does, wrapped in an oversized knit sweater, dark leggings and leg warmers, her hair tousled in that perfect way it looks in the morning (which Kurt has always hated her for). She preens a little, obviously delighted by the compliment.

“So does our little sleeping beauty,” she says, motioning back towards the living room and winking at Kurt. Kurt just snorts, shakes his head at her. Rachel raises a pointed eyebrow.

“So, when are you going to tap that?” Rachel asks with a yawn and Kurt blinks, stares at her. She just looks up at him sleepily, takes a sip of her coffee.

“I’m not going to _tap_ anything,” Kurt says, as haughty as he can, turns back to stir the scrambled eggs. “Blaine is still recovering. He needs a friend right now, not… that.”

“You know, I read in Cosmo that the best way to help someone recover from a life threatening illness is to give them a blo-”

“ _Rachel,_ ” Kurt hisses, flings a raspberry at her. Rachel ducks, sticks her tongue out at Kurt, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Sooooooooo,” she sing-songs, grabbing a raspberry from the container and popping it in her mouth. “SoItoldJoshI’dspendThanskgivingwithhim.”

Kurt stares. “Can you speak at a speed slow enough for the rest of us meager humans to understand?”

“I told Josh I’d spend Thanksgiving with him,” Rachel repeats, enunciating every word. Kurt gapes at her.

“You _what?_ ”

“I’m sorry!” Rachel says loudly, turning to the living room to see if she woke Blaine before continuing at a lower tone. “But we just made it official and we can’t bear to be apart right now. It’s young love, Kurt! Besides, I thought you’d be happy to have a day all to yourself with our Prince Charming.”

Kurt turns off the stove, pulls three plates out before turning back to glare at Rachel.

“I am mentally taking back all of the nice things I was going to do for you today.”

 “You’re just jealous you won’t be getting Thanksgiving sex,” Rachel says petulantly.

Kurt throws another raspberry at her. “Thanksgiving sex isn’t a thing Rachel.”

“Yes it is.” Rachel throws a raspberry back at Kurt, hitting him in the back of the head. _Oh, it’s on_ , Kurt thinks, scooping up three raspberries before turning and chucking them at Rachel.

Except Rachel has shifted to the side, her back turned to greet Blaine as he enters the kitchen. Blaine who is immediately assaulted by three raspberries to the face.

“Oh my god,” Kurt breathes, mortified. “I’m so sorry, those were meant for Rachel.”

Blaine blinks, looking slightly taken aback but amused.

“Is breakfast always so violent?” Blaine asks with a smile. Kurt feels red creeping into his cheeks.

“Only when Rachel is involved,” he says, turning away to prevent anymore embarrassment. He dishes out the pancakes, takes a few extra seconds to arrange the veggie sausages and raspberries into a smiley face.

“What is this?” Rachel asks when Kurt hands her a plate, Blaine taking his own with his cautious fingers.

“It’s a face,” Kurt says tersely because he’s not going to be voluntarily nice to Rachel today. “It’s a Thanksgiving tradition.”

“I think it’s cute,” Blaine chimes in, smiling up at Kurt and Kurt feels his stomach give a swoop.

“Thank you, Blaine,” Kurt says, thrusting a cup of coffee at him (and after nearly two weeks, Kurt feels a certain pride at being able to make coffee the way Blaine likes it). They perch on stools around the counter as they eat their breakfast, the conversation mostly consisting of Blaine asking Rachel more about her new relationship and Kurt sending her glares whenever he thinks she’ll see. After breakfast Blaine follows Kurt into the living room where they turn on the Thanksgiving Day Parade, Kurt immediately launching into his commentary on his opinions of the clothes and makeup of the commentators, Blaine laughing and agreeing with him.

Rachel gets ready for her big day with Josh (and Kurt briefly considers making her wear the ugliest thing he can find in her closet but refrains himself because he really is happy she has someone) while Kurt and Blaine spend the morning drinking coffee on the couch. It’s a nice morning, Kurt thinks, comfortable. Blaine’s presence is warm, calming, the easy way he laughs and the way he always licks his lips after taking a sip of coffee sending sparks through Kurt and he can’t help if his eyes linger a little, if his friendly shoulder touches happen a little more frequently.

It’s only when Rachel starts to make kissy faces behind Blaine does Kurt get up, throw her tofurkey at her and order her out of the apartment. She obliges, clutching the tofurkey to her chest, sending a wink towards Kurt before skipping out. Kurt collapses back onto the couch next to a shell-shocked Blaine, glances up at him apologetically.

“Rachel and I have a very complex relationship,” Kurt says, and Blaine chuckles.

“I’ve gathered,” he answers, tone polite but full of amusement.

“It’s just going to be us today, I hope you don’t mind.” Blaine smiles, looks down into his coffee.

“I don’t mind.” He pauses, face thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Kurt answers, looking at Blaine with interest.

“Why didn’t you go home for Thanksgiving? I’m sorry if this is overstepping, you just seem like you’re really close to your family.” Blaine’s eyes are nervous, flickering between Kurt and his coffee, like he’s afraid of asking the wrong thing and having Kurt get mad at him.

“My dad and Carole decided to take a vacation,” Kurt answers with a shrug. “My dad’s always wanted to take Carole somewhere nice and now he finally can. So they’re on a cruise in the Bahamas somewhere I think.”

“Hmm,” Blaine hums, eyebrows drawing slightly together, like he’s lost in thought. Kurt bumps his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?”

A beat, Blaine’s lips pursing like he’s not sure if he should say.

“I wonder what Cooper is doing today,” he murmurs eventually, his thumb catching a drip of coffee on the lip of his mug. “I haven’t talked to him in years, I don’t even… he could have a family or something. I wonder if he…”

Blaine shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, give a small humorless laugh and Kurt feels his heart ache at the turmoil behind his eyes.

“Do you want to try calling him?” Kurt asks, voice soft. Blaine shakes his head again, gives Kurt what’s probably meant to be a reassuring smile but it comes across as more of a grimace.

“No, I don’t even know his phone number. And I wouldn’t want to bother him, anyways.”

There’s a sadness behind Blaine’s eyes, a weight and he suddenly looks so much like that vulnerable boy that Kurt brought home the first night and more than anything Kurt wishes he could take that sadness away, replace it with the light and happiness that Blaine deserves.

“You’re family, Blaine. I’m sure you wouldn’t be bothering him.”

“We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms,” Blaine says, studies the swirls of milk in his coffee. “I’d rather be spending it with you, anyways.”

And there it is again, the swoop in Kurt’s stomach, the flush that rises in his cheeks, the urge to just reach over and grab Blaine’s hands, to hold tight and never let go, and where are these thoughts coming from?

“Well then,” Kurt says abruptly, rising to his feet. “We better not waste a minute of it. I believe we have a shopping trip planned.”

-

It’s early afternoon by the time they’re both showered and ready for their day. Blaine closes his eyes when the step outside, raises his face towards the warm sun, pauses a moment to let the golden rays soak into his skin.

Kurt watches, his mouth suddenly dry and tries to push away the feelings rising in his chest.

-

Unfortunately, most of the stores Kurt wants to check out are closed for the holiday but they do find a few open thrift shops and Kurt feels the excited tingle of a challenge. Blaine has fifty dollars from helping Ethel and Kurt helps him find a decent pair of jeans, a warm sweater, a pack of undershirts and underwear, as well as some thick socks. Kurt finds a few nice shirts for himself as well (and if he ‘accidentally’ buys them in a size too small, they might as well go to Blaine later). Blaine seems happy with his purchases and Kurt imagines it’s been a long time since he’s had enough money to afford new clothes.

“Did you have any Thanksgiving traditions?” Kurt asks when they step out of the store, content to stroll idly down the street and enjoy the warm afternoon.

“Not really,” Blaine says, swinging his bags beside him, walking close enough to Kurt that their arms occasionally brush. “When I was little my mom would take Cooper and I to the park. I would always make Cooper push me on the swings until he complained that he couldn’t feel his arms anymore. But that was a long time ago.”

Kurt pauses, shifts his bags to one arm before making up his mind and grabbing Blaine’s hand.

“Come on.”

He smiles when Blaine’s fingers tighten around his own, allowing himself to be practically dragged down the street. Kurt doesn’t let go when they get on the subway, but he doesn’t look at Blaine either, doesn’t know if he’ll have the courage to keep holding his hand if he does. He doesn’t let go until they get to the park, his fingers feeling strangely cold and empty without Blaine’s hand.

“I’ve always been one to uphold family traditions,” Kurt says lightly, finally turning to smile at Blaine, who looks back at him with wide, amazed eyes. A breeze drifts through the park, rustles the curls peeking under the edge of Blaine’s hat, cold enough that Kurt adjusts his scarf a little tighter, Blaine’s cheeks turning the slightest bit pink. They make their way through the park quietly, the sounds of laughing children getting louder as they approach the playground.

“Do you want to kick the children off or should I?” Kurt whispers, motioning towards the swing set, completely occupied by kids. Blaine laughs, the smile finally reaching his eyes, and Kurt feels a giddiness rising in him.

A little girl falls of a swing, runs crying to her mother, and Kurt takes full advantage of the sudden opportunity, darting forward to claim the swing.

“Well?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Blaine, who’s taken a hesitant step forward. “What are you waiting for?”

Blaine’s eyes sparkle as he sets his bags down, sits gingerly on the swing. Kurt steps in close behind him, his chest nearly flush with Blaine’s back as he grabs the chains just above Blaine’s hands, pulls Blaine back as far as he can before letting go.

Blaine swings forward, uses his feet to push off the ground to gain more leverage and Kurt braces himself, open hands landing flat on Blaine’s back, solid and warm under his fingers, and he gives Blaine a firm push.

“God, you’re heavy,” Kurt teases when Blaine swings back towards him and Blaine laughs, turns to stick his tongue out at Kurt and Kurt’s struck with the careless nature of it. He’s struck by Blaine, Blaine who’s had such a rough life, who’s barely been given a chance to just be himself, carefree and happy.

“Close your eyes,” Kurt whispers when Blaine swings back and Blaine obliges, his eyes fluttering closed, face relaxed and blissful. He lets Kurt push him, getting higher and higher and Kurt wonders if he feels like he’s flying, if he feels like he could do anything. Everything.  

-

Their noses are pink with the cold by the time they get home, weighed down with bags of clothes and Chinese food. Blaine hadn’t even protested when Kurt suggested they pick up Chinese, had just smiled and agreed so enthusiastically that Kurt couldn’t help but playfully shove him to the side, Blaine giving him a tiny shove back in retaliation.

And now they sit, stomachs full, empty boxes of Chinese carry out strewn around them, in a comfortable nest of blankets and pillows. Shark Week plays on the TV and Kurt excuses himself for a moment, coming back with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Blaine accepts a glass, gives it a little swirl before taking a sip and sighing.

“I think this might be the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had,” he says, voice quiet and musing. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” Kurt counters. “Otherwise I would be spending Thanksgiving alone after Rachel abandoned me.”

“Well then, glad to be of service,” Blaine says, nudging Kurt’s shoulder with his own and Kurt feels the butterflies taking flight in his stomach, quickly downs the rest of his wine and pours himself another glass.

Three glasses later and Kurt’s starting to feel very warm, that familiar tingling in his toes and lips, his mind a pleasant haze. Blaine’s staring at the TV screen in rapt attention and Kurt takes the time to refill Blaine’s almost empty wine glass, wonders how someone so sweet can find sharks so fascinating.

Somehow over the last hour they’ve ended up sitting close enough that their shoulders and legs are touching, and Kurt can feel the slight shift with every breath that Blaine takes, can feel the way he bounces his knee whenever something particularly exciting or gruesome happens on the screen. Kurt’s taken to covering his eyes whenever the sharks make a kill and if he was watching with anyone other than Blaine he would have insisted they switch to _Project Runway_ a long time ago.

“Do you think sharks have feelings?” Blaine asks, his words beginning to sound just a little bit slurred and Kurt wonders if perhaps they should slow down slightly on the wine (though he does have a whole other bottle chilling in the fridge).

“What?” Kurt asks, turning to look at Blaine like he’s grown another head.

“You know,” Blaine continues, like what he’s saying makes perfect sense. “Do you think they can fall in love?”

Kurt giggles, the conversation suddenly very amusing to him for reasons he doesn’t really understand (but supposes it has something to do with his rising blood alcohol level).

“Can you imagine sharks going on a date?” he muses, still giggling and Blaine looks at him, eyes sparkling.

“I can’t imagine what their goodbye kiss would look like,” Blaine says as the TV zooms in on a picture of the shark’s mouth, blood and bits of seal still in its teeth and Kurt grimaces.

“It would be all nose and no lips,” Kurt remarks, turns to glance at Blaine just as Blaine leans to the side to set down his wine, causing them to bump heads.

“Sort of like that?” Kurt laughs, rubbing his forehead. And then he blinks because Blaine’s face is right next to his, his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed with the wine and Kurt can’t help it, can’t think, just closes the few inches between them, his lips pressing light against Blaine’s.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, a pause and then Blaine’s pressing back, his lips warm and soft against Kurt’s. Kurt lets his hand drift up, grazes over Blaine’s shoulder before wrapping behind his neck, this thumb brushing through the soft curls at his hairline. They linger a moment before Kurt pulls away, stays close enough that he can still feel Blaine’s breath against his cheek. Blaine’s eyes are closed, the eyelashes long against his cheeks and Kurt can’t get over how beautiful Blaine looks, his other hand reaching to cup Blaine’s jaw, traces down his cheek with his thumb.

“Too bad sharks can’t kiss like that,” he says breathlessly and Blaine’s eyes flutter open, a nervous laugh escaping Kurt’s lips. Blaine presses against the hand on his cheek and Kurt can feel his heart pounding in his chest, so loud he’s sure there’s no way Blaine can’t hear it.

“Was that okay?” Kurt whispers, suddenly thrown off by Blaine’s silence. Blaine doesn’t say anything, just reaches to grab Kurt’s hand, tangles their fingers together as he leans forward, colliding their lips again. This kiss is different, more forceful and Kurt can’t help the moan that makes its way up his throat, pressing back against Blaine.

Blaine lets Kurt push him back against the couch, parts his lips just slightly when Kurt’s tongue licks along Blaine’s bottom lip. His hands slide down Kurt’s side, gripping his waist and Kurt bites back another groan, sucking Blaine’s bottom lip into his mouth before letting go with a little nip.

“Kurt,” Blaine says in a breath, looking at Kurt like he’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. So Kurt throws any rational thought and hesitation out the window, presses back in close to Blaine, his lips making his way down Blaine’s jaw, down his neck. He can feel Blaine’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and Kurt hums against him, presses a tender kiss to the dip where Blaine’s neck meets his shoulder.

“I’ve wanted to do this all day,” Kurt murmurs, and it all feels so exceptionally _good_ , the wine buzzing through him, the thrumming of Blaine’s pulse under his skin, the heat from his body, the way his touch feels like an electric charge against Kurt’s skin.

Slowly, giving Blaine a chance to protest, Kurt scoots in closer, shifts so that he’s on his knees, straddling Blaine’s hips, Blaine’s head arching up to meet Kurt’s lips, their chests flush together. Blaine whimpers against him, his fingers digging into Kurt’s side and Kurt deepens the kiss, quickly becoming frantic and desperate, his tongue sliding hot against Blaine’s as he licks into his mouth.

He can feel Blaine’s fingers working to pull Kurt’s shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants, the sensitive skin tingling when Blaine’s hands slide up against his sides, and _god_ , Kurt wants Blaine’s hands _everywhere_ , wants him to touch and feel and explore. And Kurt wants to do the same, to kiss over Blaine’s skin, to make Blaine come completely undone beneath him.

So he pulls back, eyes taking in Blaine’s flushed face, his eyes dark with pupils blown wide, his lips red and shining. The sound of a violent shark attack echoes through the room and Kurt starts laughing, slumps against Blaine and buries his head in his shoulder, suddenly overcome with the ridiculousness of their first kiss being set to the soundtrack of Shark Week. He can feel Blaine laughing too, can feel his hands rubbing slowly against Kurt’s side and Kurt looks back up, presses a soft kiss just under Blaine’s ear.

“Care to take this somewhere away from the sharks?” he whispers, sucking Blaine’s earlobe in between his lips. Blaine’s breath hitches, and Kurt can feel him nodding against him.

“Please,” he whispers back, something desperate and wanting in his voice. Kurt forces himself to stand on shaky legs, reaches a hand down to help Blaine up, their fingers twining together, and Kurt tugs Blaine into his room, presses him down into the bed.

-

And as layers of clothes get thrown onto the floor, Kurt is suddenly very, very glad Rachel decided to abandon them for the night.  
[ **  
**](http://preciousmellow.livejournal.com/19661.html)


	8. Chapter 8

 

A note, written on the back of a receipt, left on a pillow.

_Kurt –_

_I’m sorry. Thank you so much for everything. You changed my life._  
                                                                                          _– B_

Kurt stares at the scrawled writing all morning. He feels nauseous, confused. Last night had been great. Wonderful. _Perfect_.

He’d thought.

The note crumples in his palm and he swallows down the angry tears that bite behind his eyes. He doesn’t know what went wrong, if _he_ did something wrong. Did he push Blaine too hard? Did he make him feel uncomfortable? Is this just another thing that Blaine’s worried about paying back?

Whatever the reason, seeing the empty pile of blankets on the couch sends an ache through his heart. Stares at them for awhile, as if willing Blaine to walk back in the door and say it’s all been a mistake, he’s changed his mind. He isn’t leaving.

But he doesn’t come. So Kurt folds them neatly, sits on the couch beside them, unsure of what to do. It’s only been two weeks but he feels… lacking without Blaine’s bright smile, without his questions of how he slept, if he had any good dreams.

Smoothing his hands over the blankets, Kurt curls his legs into his chest and lets himself slide down, the blankets pillowing his head. He closes his eyes, breathes in the faint smell of Blaine, and falls asleep.

-

Kurt leaves the blankets piled on the couch. A placeholder.

-

Rachel doesn’t come back until Saturday, prancing into the apartment with a smile on her face.

“Everyone decent?”

Kurt glares at her from his spot on the table, his coffee mug wrapped tightly between his hands.

“How was Josh?” Kurt asks because he knows that’s all she’s going to want to talk about, so he might as well get it over with.

“Fabulous,” Rachel says with a sigh, draping herself on the chair across from Kurt and smiling. “So… spill! Where’s Blaine? Is he still in a certain person’s bed?”

Kurt stares into his coffee. “He left.”

“What?”

Kurt shrugs, doesn’t really know what to say. “He’s gone, Rachel. He left. I have no idea where he is. What part of that is hard to understand?”

And Kurt stands, goes back to his room and slams the door, leaving a stunned Rachel behind.

-

He looks all weekend; walks through the parks they’d visited, eats at the diner he first took Blaine to, checks the bench Blaine had slept on. He sits in the coffee shop it all started in, stares at the empty corner, his coffee untouched in his hands.

He looks but finds nothing.

-

The funny thing about hope is it never really goes away. It fades, dampens, twists and diminishes with time, but it’s still there, a spark waiting to be rekindled. So as Sunday draws to a close and Kurt curls up in bed, readying himself for school the next day, he feels his hope resigning, tucking itself away inside of him. Blaine doesn’t want to be found, Blaine left for a reason, even if Kurt doesn’t really understand, that was Blaine’s choice. He’s not going to stop looking, he’s not going to stop hoping, but he has class and a job and a life that still needs attending.

He’ll just have to find a way to make it through without Blaine’s warm honey eyes, without his easy smiles and gentle shoulder touches. At least for awhile.

-

Rachel is insufferable and, well, _Rachel_. She’s drawn up lists and diagrams of where Blaine could have gone, has called all the nearby shelters and while Kurt is thankful of her support and her concern, it’s just a bit… much. It’s only when she prints off a stack of missing posters does Kurt put his foot down, reminding her that Blaine is not a missing pet, he’s a person who has no obligation to them and is free to go if he feels like it.

She side eyes him but puts the posters back reluctantly, muttering something about how she only wants to help. Kurt gives her a hug then, wraps her small body up in his arms and she squeezes him tight.

“I miss him too,” she whispers and Kurt wonders if Blaine knows how many people’s lives he’s actually touched. If he knows that he’s not alone in the world, if only he would open himself up to the idea.

-

“What’s gotcha down, raincloud?”

A voice captures Kurt’s attention after his class on Tuesday and he starts, smiles when he sees Lucas just behind him. He slows enough to let Lucas catch up to him, shrugs his shoulders.

“Nothing, just, friend trouble,” he answers, figures it’s vague enough. Lucas pouts, looks honestly concerned and Kurt can’t help but feel a little touched.

“Anything you want to talk about? I have a good listening ear,” Lucas offers and Kurt looks at him, really looks, takes in his sandy blond hair, his ridiculously long legs, the way his clothes hug him in just the right way. He forces himself to look away, his hand tightening on the strap of his satchel.

“Not yet, thank you, though. Maybe some time.”

“Alright, well, I’m here for you,” Lucas says, shoots Kurt a warm smile. “Hey, I’m having some people over tomorrow night. I know it’s a Wednesday, but our morning class is canceled on Thursday so I figured I’d take advantage of the opportunity. You’re welcome to come if you want to get your mind off friend troubles.”

Kurt worries at his lip, considering. “That sound great actually.”

“Perfect,” Lucas says and his words are warm, comforting and inviting and Kurt wonders what it would be like, being with Lucas. Someone in fashion school, with a well-off family, with charming smiles and lots of friends and that carefree nature about him. It would be easy, Kurt thinks, easy to just fall right in, comfortable and uncomplicated.

“Oh hey, tell me about the Beyonce concert,” Kurt prompts as they make their way to the dining hall.

“Oh you mean when I had to chaperone my fourteen year old sister and six of her friends?” Lucas starts and Kurt laughs, long and real.

-

On Wednesday Kurt stops by the library. He’s on his way to Lucas’s for the party/get-together/thing (Lucas had been sort of vague on what exactly it was, but Kurt isn’t too concerned) and decides to stop by, memories of Blaine tucked away in the corner, sleeping on a chair fresh in his mind.

The friendly librarian smiles at him when he enters and he nods at her, realizes why Blaine would want to spend time here, if he had nowhere else to go. It’s warm and inviting, the smell of old books and coffee in the air, everyone ready with a friendly welcome. He tries not to feel too disappointed when he doesn’t see Blaine, he hadn’t been too hopeful to begin with.

But then he catches a flash of turquoise mixed in with long blonde hair and he makes his way over to the coffee stand, the little spark in his heart growing just slightly.

“Kurt, hey!” Ariel greets with a wave. “Fancy a mocha today? Or are you going to branch out finally?”

She winks at him and Kurt chuckles, leans up against the counter. He likes Ariel, imagines they could be good friends if the opportunity arose.

“Actually, I’m not here for coffee,” he says, and Ariel raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t think you swung that way, honey,” she teases, winking at him and Kurt shakes his head, draws a pattern on the counter top.

“I was actually wondering if you’ve seen Blaine around?” he asks, looking back up at her and her face immediately turns serious, eyes worried.

“No, I… he’s not with you anymore?”

“He left, last week. I don’t know where he went and I…” Kurt trails off, tries to gather everything he’s feeling into words that make sense.

“You’re worried about him?” she supplies, voice soft.

“Yeah,” Kurt says with a nod. “I am. I just want to know if he’s okay, and to… talk with him, I guess.”

Ariel gives him a sympathetic look. “I haven’t seen him around here, but it’s getting colder out so I bet he’ll show up. He likes to come here on cold days, probably because of all the free coffee I give him.”

Kurt considers for a moment, before pulling out his phone. “Could we exchange phone numbers, maybe? And if you see him you can send me a text or something, just so I know he’s okay?”

“Sure thing,” Ariel says, and they switch phones, programming in their numbers.

“Thank you so much.”

“No problem, muchacho,” Ariel responds with a smile, reaches to give Kurt’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

Kurt doesn’t know how he supposed to not worry, but he nods anyways, feels a little comforted now that he knows there are other people keeping an eye out for Blaine.

-

Wednesday evening consists of beer and charades with a gathering of fashion and theater majors. It’s a rambunctious group, the apartment filled with shouting and laughter and as Kurt sips on his beer from his place on the couch, he feels light, content, the alcohol helping to dull the ever present worry in his heart. 

“Refill?” Lucas plops down on the couch beside him, two beers in his hands and he passes one to Kurt.

“Thank you,” Kurt says, taking a swig. Beer isn’t his favorite but he’s not going to complain, anything to take the edge of right now seems desirable.

“Having fun? You seem a little on edge,” Lucas  asks, scooting in close enough that his leg presses against Kurt’s. Kurt shrugs, takes another sip of his beer.

“Yeah, I guess I’m still a little worried about the friend thing,” he says as nonchalantly as he can, not really wanting to spill everything to Lucas.

“Awe,” Lucas pouts, takes Kurt’s beer and sets it on the table. He’s a little drunk, Kurt can tell, in the loose way he moves, the flush in his cheeks and brightness in his eyes. But he doesn’t protest when Lucas slips his hand into Kurt’s, pulls him to his feet. “Come on, I’ll make you something stronger.”

Kurt lets Lucas lead him to the kitchen, dodging around people (and when did the apartment get so full?), their hands staying linked together and Kurt can feel his heart starting to pound in his chest. There’s a couple in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and eating out of cereal boxes but Lucas just ignores them, pulling Kurt to the opposite side and opening a cabinet with his free hand.

“We’ve got tequila, rum, vodka, some port that I have no idea what you would do with, UV blue,” Lucas keeps listing off things but Kurt is distracted, staring at the long line of Lucas’s back, his perfectly tousled hair. Lucas turns around when Kurt doesn’t answer, his eyes catching Kurt’s and he grows silent for a moment.

“Or did you want something a little different?” he asks, voice low, pulls Kurt even closer, his free hand reaching to wrap around Kurt’s bicep. Kurt swallows, unable to find his voice and suddenly Lucas is _there_ , his lips pressed to Kurt’s, his eyes fluttering shut.

It’s nice, Kurt thinks, nice to feel wanted, to feel like someone desires him. Someone like Lucas, uncomplicated, someone that everyone likes. It would be so easy to press back, to reach up and twine his hands in Lucas’s hair, to let his own eyes close and his lips part and to just give in and let it happen.

But Kurt knows when his eyes open and he’s not greeted by wide hazel eyes, by impossibly long eyelashes and dark curly hair, he knows that disappointment will sweep through him and it wouldn’t be fair. Not to Lucas, not to Blaine, not to himself.

So he pulls away, his lips numb from the kiss and the booze, and he gives Lucas’s hand a small squeeze.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” The words are barely a whisper and he turns before Lucas can say anything, before he can see more than a brief flash of the confusion and disappointment on his face. And he leaves, walks back out into the December night, flurries of snow drifting down from the sky and Kurt wonders if the weather feels just as confused as he does.

-

That night Kurt stares at the ceiling from his bed, body exhausted but thoughts still running. He wonders where Blaine is, if he’s thinking about him, if he’s warm and safe, if he’s happy with his decision to leave. He wonders if he’ll ever see him again, what will happen if he does.

He wonders about Lucas, about why he turned him down like that. Surely that’s what everyone would hope for, for Kurt to find someone nice, someone with money and security and everything that Blaine doesn’t have. That’s what his dad would want for him, what his family and friends would want, right? Someone socially acceptable, with a stable future.

It’s appealing. But it’s easy and that’s not what Kurt wants. He doesn’t want easy. He wants _real_.

He closes his eyes and rolls over, presses his face into his pillow as he groans. He doesn’t care if Blaine’s worried about how much money he has, if he left because he doesn’t think he can give Kurt what Kurt wants. _He’s_ what Kurt wants, with his love of music and secret fascination of Vogue and documentaries about animals.

He doesn’t care about social acceptance or money or if Blaine lives on a park bench or a mansion. He doesn’t care because he cares about _Blaine_ , the boy with so much life and vibrance, who makes him feel whole and warm. Who always seems to make him laugh and holds doors open for him and helps old ladies without complaint.

He wants Blaine, and he doesn't care what anyone thinks. He’s going to find him and he’s going to tell him.    
  
[ **  
**](http://preciousmellow.livejournal.com/19800.html)


	9. Chapter 9

 

The problem with Kurt’s resolution is that he still has no idea how to find Blaine. He tries harder, stops by all the spots they’ve frequented nearly every day, texts Ariel each evening to see if she’s heard news. There’s nothing and Kurt tries not to feel the throb in his chest, the ache that maybe this is it. Maybe it doesn’t matter if what he’s decided, Blaine doesn’t want _him_ and that’s it. Maybe he should give up.

But then he’s out that weekend, walking and trying to clear his mind. He’d just talked to Lucas, told him that he didn’t want anything more than to be friends (which Lucas took with a gracious smile even though Kurt felt completely terrible). His head is pounding and the cold air is biting at his nose and fingers, but it almost feels good, like he can finally wake up. Like he can think clearly for the first time and he knows, even if he doesn’t see Blaine again, that he made the right choice. That he deserves more, deserves what makes him _happy_ , not just the easiest way out.

Because sometimes the best things are the things you have to work for.

He’s walking when he sees it, tucked away in the corner of a pawnshop window. A guitar, worn and battered. He steps closer to the window, his breath fogging the glass and sees it, the tiny engraving in the corner, of a bird. Blaine’s guitar.

Bells chime when Kurt bursts into the store, a startled employee looking up at him. The guitar is one hundred dollars and Kurt doesn’t hesitate to buy it, figures he can just take it out of his clothing budget for the next month. The pawnshop is skeevy, full of questionable looking items and Kurt doesn’t want to think about how much Blaine might have sold his most prized possession for.

When he leaves the shop, the worn handles of the guitar case in his fingers, bumping against his knees as he walks, Kurt feels the spark of hope in his chest flare up into a flame, crackling with the little piece of Blaine he now has, with the promise that one day he’ll be able to return it.

-

But Blaine still doesn’t show up. The week passes without a word and Kurt feels himself starting to become resigned, throws himself into finishing his projects and studying for his finals. Every night Kurt takes a few minutes, pulls out his laptop and starts looking up chords, simple songs, teaching himself. He took guitar lessons for a few months when he was little before deciding that piano was more of his thing, so some of it seems familiar and he can see why Blaine likes it. It’s calming, sitting on the couch, strumming the guitar. It makes him feel closer to Blaine, connected in some weird way.

Maybe he is getting a little desperate.

-

A week after Kurt found Blaine’s guitar he sits on the couch, stares at the pile of blankets. He’d just finished his classes, has another week waiting for Rachel to be done before he goes home to Lima, and he feels… empty. Listless. Doesn’t even have homework or designs to keep him busy.

So he stands, gathers the blankets, and with a heavy heart, puts them back in the tiny linen closet.

-

Back in his room he sits on his bed, sighs. Something catches his eyes, dark green, lying beside his bedside table. It’s a pair of mittens that can be buttoned back into fingerless gloves. He’d gotten them for Blaine, during their shopping trip over Thanksgiving, must have forgotten to give them to him.

An idea flares to life inside him as he clutches the gloves, and he smiles, holds the gloves to his chest.

-

A note left on a park bench, balanced on top of a pair of green fingerless mittens.

_Blaine  - I hope you find these. I meant to give them to you over Thanksgiving. Wherever you are, I hope you’re safe and happy. I miss you. (you’re always welcome back) –K_

-

The next day the gloves are gone and Kurt hopes that whoever has them, even if it isn’t Blaine, finds them useful.

-

The week brings a flurry of snow, sparkling in the sky, melting as soon as it touches the ground. Kurt sits curled up on the couch, a cup of hot chocolate steaming beside him, _Paradise Lost_ open on his lap. He’s not really reading it, doesn’t have much interest in it, but he remembers the smile Blaine had as he read it (and he’s starting to questions Blaine’s sanity just a little bit if Milton makes him smile).

There’s a knock on the door, three quick raps, and Kurt groans, figures it’s probably Ethel needing his help reorganizing her bookshelf or fishing something out from under her bed or something. He pastes a fake smile to his face, pads over to the door and swings it open.

_Oh_.

Kurt blinks, once, twice, three times. But he’s still there, with his familiar patched jacket, his dark curls sprinkled with white snow. His cheeks are red, his eyes nervous, and he shifts, tries to smile weakly at Kurt.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Kurt says on the end of a breath, keeps staring. Blaine looks good, breathing with an ease like he’s completely recovered from his pneumonia. His hair is vibrant, the gaunt look in his cheeks filled out, his skin smooth and glowing.

Blaine clears his throat, rings his hands together.

“You found the gloves,” Kurt says, his mouth suddenly dry and Blaine looks down, lets his thumb stroke over the rough fabric of the gloves.

“Yeah, thank you. They’re very warm.”

“I’m glad you found them,” Kurt whispers and an uncomfortable silence falls over them.

“I wanted to…”

“Do you want to…”

They speak at the same time, both stop and laugh.

“Come in?” Kurt tries again and Blaine nods, steps inside the door, gently closes it behind himself. He follows Kurt into the living room, stops short, jaw dropping.

“You…” he steps forward, hands brushing the guitar that’s propped against the couch. “It’s my guitar.”

He looks at Kurt with wide, amazed eyes and Kurt feels that familiar rush in his belly, like a thousand butterflies have been let loose at once.

“I saw it at a pawnshop and I couldn’t just…” Kurt licks his lips, looks down. “I’ve been trying to learn how to play. My fingers are getting calloused.”

Kurt lifts his hands, wiggles his fingers. Blaine chuckles, takes one of Kurt’s hands and traces over the tips of his fingers before letting go.

“That happens.”

A pause.

“Kurt, I, um, I want to apologize. For leaving.” Blaine looks sincere, his head dipping to try and catch Kurt’s eyes.

“Why did you leave?” Kurt asks, his voice wavering and he hates how needy he sounds, how emotional but he can’t help it, not with Blaine standing right here after more than two weeks without any word.

“I…” Blaine clasps his hands to his thighs. “I got scared. I was scared that I wasn’t enough, that I could never repay you for everything you’ve done for me and… I don’t do well with accepting charity, Kurt.”

Kurt steels his jaw, looks down at his feet. “I wanted to help you because I _care_ about you.”

“I know,” Blaine steps forward, touches a gentle hand to Kurt’s arm. “I know that now. I was just so confused. You have to understand, Kurt, that most people aren’t so nice. Most people wouldn’t just want to help someone like _me_ out, out of the kindness of their hearts. But you’re not like most people. You’re special, and I didn’t want…” The words are rushing out of Blaine’s lips but he pauses, breathing hard. “I didn’t want to ruin that.”

Kurt is speechless, anything he could say stuck somewhere between his brain and his tongue.

“My last relationship, well, he took everything from me and I’ve had a hard time trusting people since then. But I was getting by, I didn’t mind being out on my own, I was doing okay. Or I thought I was, but then you saved my life and I realized how _not_ okay I was. And it scared me, Kurt. It scared me having to rely on you.”

Blaine cuts short and Kurt can see the way his eyes are misting, the way his hands have started trembling.

“I think… I think I needed to do something on my own. For myself. After…” he clears his throat, wipes his eyes and gives Kurt a shaky _sorry_.

“It’s okay,” Kurt says, reaches to take Blaine’s hand in his own. Tears are pricking behind his own eyes, seeing Blaine come so undone like this. He just wants to tell Blaine it’s okay, he doesn’t need an explanation, he’d take Blaine back in a heartbeat but he can tell this is important. It’s important to Blaine that Kurt knows this about him, that Kurt really understands, so he runs a comforting thumb over Blaine’s knuckles and waits.

“After that last night, on Thanksgiving, I was scared for how much I cared for you, Kurt. I don’t think I’ve… I’ve never felt this about someone and… and you deserve _so_ much. You are amazing, Kurt. You’re kind and patient and beautiful and I couldn’t imagine being with anyone more perfect, but I think that’s what was the problem.”

Blaine sucks in a deep breath, looking straight at Kurt, imploring him to understand.

“I have _nothing_ to offer you. I don’t have any money, I can’t buy you the things you deserve. You deserve someone who can do things for you, who can take you to fancy dinners and buy you scarves and doesn’t need for you to pay for a measly cup of coffee.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Kurt counters, lifts his free hand to stroke it across Blaine’s cheek, Blaine’s eyes fluttering briefly closed and he leans into the touch. “Honestly. I don’t care. I like _you_ Blaine, not how much money you have or where you live. I don’t care if you can’t buy me things or if I have to pay for your coffee or that our first kiss was during Shark Week. I don’t want you any other way. You’re perfect just like this.”

Blaine gives a shaky laugh, a tear slipping down his cheek and Kurt brushes it away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and Kurt shakes his head.

“Don’t be.” He pauses, considers Blaine. “Unless you’re not going to let me kiss you. Then you might need to be so-”

The rest of his words are cut off by Blaine’s lips, and Kurt starts, surprised, before relaxing into the kiss. He lets his hand snake behind Blaine’s head, his fingers tangling into the curls, slightly damp from the snow and he can’t help but moan against Blaine, has been dreaming about this for so long. Blaine’s hand squeezes Kurt’s and he presses tender little kisses across Kurt’s lips, traces down his jaw, his neck, before they’re pressed flush together, his chin resting in the dip of Kurt’s shoulder.

His arms wrap around Kurt and they stand like that for a moment, wrapped in a hug, close enough that Kurt can feel the pounding of Blaine’s heart against his chest.

“I’m so glad you came back,” Kurt whispers into Blaine’s hair, and Blaine clutches Kurt tighter, holding him like a lifeline.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Blaine whispers back, and Kurt strokes his fingers through Blaine’s hair, wonders when the last time someone held him like this was.

“Because you deserve it. Because you’re amazing and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Blaine draws away and for a moment Kurt’s sure he overstepped, that this is too much and he’s overwhelming Blaine, but then Blaine’s lips are back on his, harder and more desperate than before.

“I think I’m in love you too,” Blaine breathes when he draws away, resting his forehead against Kurt’s and they both laugh. Kurt lets his eyes slide shut for a moment, lets himself just feel Blaine next to him, lets him breath him in and hold him tight and forget the two weeks of not knowing that have led up to this moment.

“I think that’s why I needed to go,” Blaine says after a pause, gathering up the courage to lift his head and look Kurt in the eyes again. “I needed to do something for myself, to know that I _can_ do something for myself, and I did. I… I have my own place now.”

“What?” Kurt asks, eyes wide and he takes in Blaine’s face, shining with pride.

“Well, it’s not really my own place, it’s an empty attic room at Ariel’s house but…”

“Wait… Ariel?”

Blaine nods, blushing. “Yeah, one of her roommates moved out and they needed someone to take over. It’s small and it’s cheap but it’s my own place.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Kurt says, honestly, because he really is. As much as he had hoped that Blaine would want to stay here with him, he knew it wasn’t practical, not really. “I’m going to have a few words with Ariel though because I’ve been worried sick and-”

“I asked her not to,” Blaine cuts Kurt off, smiles bashfully at him. “I wanted to come find you when I was ready so… I asked her not to tell you. Don’t blame her.”

“Can I see it?” Kurt asks, grasping both of Blaine’s hands in his own. “Your place? Can I come over?”

Blaine bites his lip and looks down. “Um, I have to go to work now, actually.”

“Oh?” Kurt says, eyebrows rising in surprise. “You have a job?”

“Yeah, I have two actually. I, um, help out Ethel, and Ariel got me a job shelving books in the library.”

A laugh bubbles out of Kurt, sudden and bright. “You’ve been helping out Ethel? As in the Ethel down the hall?”

Blaine nods, the flush creeping up to his ears. “Yeah.”

“You know she only keeps finding things for you to do so she can check out your ass.”

Blaine shrugs, laughing. “I don’t mind, I like helping her out.”

“Of course you do,” Kurt says, reaching forward to tuck a loose curl behind Blaine’s ear. His hair is getting long and Kurt doubts he’s had a haircut in a long time, wonders if Blaine would let him cut it for him.

“Do you want to stop buy later? I get done at seven,” Blaine says and there’s a shy note to his voice, like he’s nervous for Kurt to come see his place.

“I would love to,” Kurt says and Blaine steps back, gives a shaky smile. “Do you have to leave now?”

Blaine nods and Kurt feels something like panic rising in him because he doesn’t want Blaine to leave, not so soon after he just got him back.

“Wait,” Kurt calls when Blaine turns to leave, looks around desperately. He grabs a spatula off the counter, thrusts it into Blaine’s hand because he wants him to have _something_. “Take this, as a, um, housewarming gift.”

Blaine raises an amused eyebrow but he looks genuinely touched, his fingers curling around the spatula.

“Thank you,” Blaine says and Kurt gives a laugh that he’s sure sounds near hysterical but Blaine can’t blame him because _he’s_ the one who just walked in here and turned Kurt’s life around.

“Um, I’ll see you at seven-thirty?” Kurt says and Blaine nods, tells him the address before leaning to press a nervous kiss to Kurt’s lips and leaving.

The door clicks closed and Kurt presses his back against it, lets himself slide down the door, kicky-feets against the ground, bites his lip to hold back an insane smile.

Seven o’clock cannot come fast enough.

-

It started with a boy on a corner, strumming a guitar with warm eyes and an easy smile.

It ends with a bed, tucked into the corner of a tiny attic room, two boys curled up under the covers, hands linked even in sleep.

A spatula sits on the bedside table.   
  



	10. Epilogue

On their first real date, Blaine takes Kurt to McDonald’s. He’s protests, fights, says that Kurt deserves so much  _more_ , deserves caviar, and champagne, and all sorts of things that Blaine can’t afford. But Kurt insists he doesn’t care, grabs Blaine’s hand and practically drags him to the nearest McDonald’s, orders Happy Meals for both of them. Blaine pays and Kurt plops them down near the play area.

He sticks a french-fry in a cup of ketchup, tells Blaine to imagine it’s a candle and they're at a fancy restaurant, and eats his chicken nuggets with a satisfied smile on his face.

-

Kurt convinces Blaine to come home for Christmas. His face is pale and his knees are shaking when they get on the airplane, and he swallows hard and clutches Kurt’s hand when they take off. Kurt knows Blaine wants him to think he’s afraid of flying, but really Kurt knows he’s afraid of meeting his father.

But Burt loves Blaine, loves the easy way he can talk about fashion with Kurt and football with Finn, loves how he makes Kurt smile like he’s never seen before, loves the way Kurt shines with happiness when Blaine is around.

Carole loves Blaine too. How he’s always so polite, folds his napkin in his lap and compliments her cooking at least ten times a meal. How he always helps clean up after and tells her he loves her hair, and her dress really brings out the green in her eyes. Her heart aches at the thought of Blaine alone, out in the world without parents or family who love him, draws him into a hug and promises herself that from now on he’ll always have a family.

-

On New Year’s Eve, Kurt and Rachel bake Blaine a birthday cake, force him to sit and eat at least two slices of it, and when they watch the fireworks on TV later, Kurt whispers in his ear that they’re for him. That the whole world is celebrating his birthday. Blaine smiles and leans against him, and believes.

-

Before they go back to New York, Kurt takes Blaine to the cemetery. The snow crunches under their boots, Blaine’s hand gripping Kurt’s tighter and tighter as they get closer.

“I haven’t been here in years,” Blaine whispers, standing in front of his parents’ grave. Kurt gives Blaine’s hand a squeeze and Blaine leans down, nestles the bouquet of roses against the cool gray stone.

“Do you want to be alone?” Kurt asks, voice quiet, nonjudgmental either way. Blaine shakes his head, holds Kurt’s hand even tighter.

“Can you stay?”

“Of course,” Kurt says, and Blaine rests his head against Kurt’s shoulder. They stand in silence, Kurt rubbing a hand on Blaine’s back, Blaine standing, watching, processing.

“I never really said goodbye to them,” he whispers and Kurt can see a tear sliding down his cheek. Kurt turns his head to press a kiss against his cheek, the tear salty on his lips.

“I think I’ll try and find Cooper,” Blaine says, looking up at Kurt and Kurt nods.

“I think that’s a great idea,” he says, touches another kiss to Blaine’s lips. “But even if you can’t find him, you’ll always have me. I promise.”

“As long as I have you, I’m happy,” Blaine whispers, honesty raw in his voice. He smiles, rests his head back on Kurt’s shoulder, and for the first time Kurt thinks he understands when people say that sometimes home isn’t a place.

Sometimes it’s a person. 


End file.
